


Omegas Anonymous

by firefly124



Category: Supernatural
Genre: A/B/O, Background Saileen, DCBB2020, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Mentions of past abuse, Mpreg, NOT by Dean/Cas, Omega Castiel, Omega Dean Winchester, Past Dean/Alastair, and treated as the utter bs that it is, infertility shaming, past Cas/Bartholomew, past Dean/Lisa - Freeform, past dean/lydia - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:40:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 26,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27462094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firefly124/pseuds/firefly124
Summary: You're not supposed to meet your mate in therapy. You're really, really not supposed to meet your mate in a therapy group strictly for Omegas. Castiel may be used to following the rules, but he's starting to question them, and Dean only selectively ever does what he's "supposed to do."
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 56
Kudos: 241
Collections: DCBB 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so very much to MasterofEvilMonkeyness for the absolutely amazing artwork. Please check out the [art masterpost](https://masterofevilmonkeyness.tumblr.com/post/634315828218773504/this-is-my-dcbb-art-for-the-cute-story-omegas) and give it some love!
> 
> And [Mrs. Hays](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrshays/works), thank you immensely for beta-reading. Any remaining errors are mine, all mine, and no one else shall have them!
> 
> Also, thanks to Jessica for the inside scoop on various aspects of Lawrence, which were super helpful.

"He's bleeding out!"

"Mr. Harrington, I need you to sign the consent form for us to operate. We need to go back in and stop this bleeding or he's going to die."

"Fine, yes. Do whatever you have to do."

The scent of agitated Alpha filled the entire unit, and Dean found himself cringing in reflex.

"You good, Winchester?" Jo asked.

"Yeah." Dean shook himself. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"Uh, huh." She all but rolled her eyes at him. "Look, I had a late lunch, so why don't you take your break now, and I'll cover your patients. You don't have anyone about to go into labor, right?"

"Room sixteen is three centimeters, and room twenty is four. Should be awhile." As transparent as her ploy was, Dean was grateful for it. And there really wasn't a good reason he personally had to be on the floor right now. The emergency that had that Alpha stinking up the place was down the other end of the unit, and there were plenty of nurses on hand down that way.

To his right, he heard the ding of the elevator and darted his eyes toward it. It was Donna, tranq gun on one hip and billy club on the other. Yeah, she'd keep that guy in line.

"You know what, Jo, I'll take you up on that," Dean said. "So long as you take your break as soon as I'm back."

"Deal."

Dean gave her a quick report on his patients and took the stairs down to the cafeteria. It didn't exactly help get his heart rate down, but it did force him to take deep breaths. Missouri always said he needed to take deep breaths when he got freaked out. Not that he was freaked out. Just, you know, needed to clear his nose of that Alpha's desperation. Because that's what it was, really. Not rage, not ... not any of the things Dean needed to worry about. And if it was, Donna would take care of it. By the time he got back to the floor, everything would be fine.

When he got back from dinner, everything was not fine. There was no ruckus, nobody looked scared, nobody was screaming. But the reek of Alpha rage - and that was what it was now - was everywhere. It was so thick, Dean could barely breathe.

"Winchester, med room, now," Victor barked.

Dean wasn't sure what he'd managed to fuck up, but it was a relief to be able to go in there to be yelled at about it. He sought out Jo, whose jaw was set in a firm line, and she nodded at him. Great, it was that bad. He hoped his patients were okay. He hadn't given them any medications, so it couldn't be that he gave them something incorrect. Was that it? Did he miss something? Was one of them diabetic and he didn't even get their blood sugar reading before dinner? He didn't think he'd seen gestational diabetes on either of their charts, but right now, he could barely think at all.

"Here."

A cold glass was shoved into Dean's hand once he was in the med room and the door secured. Dean raised it to his lips and drank. It had to be really bad if they wanted him hydrated. Once the glass was empty, Victor took it away. A moment later, it was back in his hand again.

"Take this."

Dean looked stupidly at the pill Victor had just tipped into his palm. Small, round, white. He should recognize it. He knew that. But he couldn't pull the name from his memory.

"Lorazepam," Victor said. "Protocol. Every Omega on the floor gets one tonight."

Oh. Oh! He popped the pill into his mouth and washed it down with the water. Maybe his heart would stop beating triple time.

"We've got the vents working overtime," Victor said. "By the time it wears off for the first ... well, one of the first Omegas, we're hoping the floor'll be clear."

"How bad was it?" Dean asked.

"Donna handled it," Victor said. "Pup made it. That's all I know, though."

Gotta love HIPAA. They couldn't know how the patients were if they weren't their patients, specifically. But there was a protocol for when a pup passed here, on the floor where everyone expected to be welcoming a new little one into their life. That door would have a white rose on it so that everyone would know not to walk in there being all cheerful to a grieving parent.

Dean set down the glass, finally realizing his hands were sweaty and he was probably going to drop it once he relaxed his grip in the slightest. Which he was sure to do once the lorazepam hit him, any minute now. Next, he was going to have to focus on staying awake until the drug cleared his system, but he really didn't think that was going to be a problem. His patients might or might not deliver tonight, but once he could focus on them, he'd be golden.

"Linda called for a pool nurse to come in," Victor said.

"Oh wow. Why? Who had to leave?"

Victor just narrowed his eyes at Dean.

"Wait, what? No way. I'm fine, Victor."

"Literally nobody on this floor is fine tonight, Dean. But you're the only Omega nurse on, and protocol is protocol."

"Protocol's stupid," Dean snapped. "The floor's full of Omegas who're all gonna be in distress from that stink out there. It's kind of the nature of the unit."

"But they don't have to perform complex clinical tasks while under the influence of very necessary sedatives," Victor said calmly.

"I'm fine," Dean said. "I'll be fine, Vic, you know it."

"I know when you hit the floor - thanks for taking the stairs, by the way, that made intercepting you super easy - you looked more freaked out than half the Omegas about to give birth in here," Victor said. "Probably some idiopathic pheromonal response. And even if I hadn't had to increase the dose accordingly, you still wouldn't be allowed to work under the influence of a sedative. The fact that you don't realize that is just proving why the protocol is what it is."

Dean wanted to argue the point, but all of a sudden, his eyelids felt like somebody had attached lead weights to them.

"Jo's calling your brother," Victor said as he guided Dean over to a chair and nudged him to sit down.

"What? No. I'm not leaving my baby here," Dean protested.

"Your car will be fine. Better than it would be if you tried to drive it right now."

Some corner of Dean's brain knew that Victor was right. He wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of saying so, though. The lead weights pulled his eyelids shut for a second. He snapped them open when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"C'mon, Dean," Sam said. "Let's get you home."

Sam's scent was like mulled cider, spicy and warm and cozy and home. Either the vents really had been put into overdrive or Dean was so fixed on the scent of family that he couldn't smell the enraged (rampaging, ravaging) Alpha as they walked through the hall, over to the elevator.

"You need to grab anything from your locker?" Sam asked.

"You got my key?"

"Of course." Sam held up his key ring, and Dean recognized his apartment key.

"Then I'm good." Dean sighed. "Won't need my keys till I come get my baby tomorrow."

"Have I mentioned how disturbing it is that you, a labor and delivery nurse, call your car 'Baby'?"

"Way too many damn times, Sammy. Way too many times."

#

Castiel got out of the cab and gazed up at the imposing-looking office building. The number of steps to get to the door alone was intimidating, especially since he was still healing. He almost turned around to get back in the cab, but no. He'd promised his caseworker he'd give this a try, and she'd even arranged someone to watch his pup so he could. She and her mate were doing so much to help him. He could at least show his face at this meeting.

Movement to his right caught his eye, and that's when Castiel realized there was a side door at ground level. Granted, he'd have to go down the little slope of a driveway leading into the parking lot to get there, but that seemed much easier than climbing all those stairs. He could just hear Bartholomew sneering that that just showed how damaged he was. He shoved a mental door closed on that and made his way to the door.

Once inside, he had to figure out where to go. There were, after all, a lot of offices in this building. Thankfully, Ms. Moseley's office was easy enough to find in the listing. He stepped into the elevator and hit the button for the fourth floor.

There was a cheerful, redheaded Beta at the reception desk, who gave him a clipboard full of forms and a pen with a Star Trek logo on it to fill them out with. He settled into one of the surprisingly comfy waiting room chairs and set to work.

Name. Easy enough. Gender. Male. Designation. He hovered the pen over that one for a while. Was he really an Omega anymore? He supposed he was, legally, even though his caseworker was trying to help him change that. The whole point of this therapy group was that he was an Omega, though, so he finally settled on that.

He worked his way through the rest of the forms, carefully leaving blank everything that asked about his soon-to-be-ex mate. The last thing he needed was for Bartholomew's insurance to get wind of this. Not that he'd deny the treatment. No, he'd just use it as one more thing to grind into Castiel's face about how broken he was. How useless. Castiel didn't need to hear any more of that from him. He heard enough of it from himself.  
He brought the form up to the sliding window and tapped lightly on it. The cheerful redhead looked up, took it from him with a smile, and told him Ms. Moseley would be with him shortly.

"I thought this was a group therapy session," he said, his heart suddenly doing jumping jacks on his stomach.

"That starts at ten-thirty," she replied. "Missouri likes to meet with people one-on-one for a bit before their first couple of group sessions. Don't worry. She's great."

Well, of course, the receptionist is going to say that her boss is great. That was kind of her job, wasn't it? But there was something about this Beta that made Castiel feel at ease. He didn't think her bright demeanor seemed fake, and if this Ms. Moseley was an awful person, wouldn't it have to be? Besides, he trusted Eileen's judgment. She had made it very clear when she made the referral that she knew Ms. Moseley's work and that Castiel wouldn't be disappointed. He hoped she was right.

He also wished she'd said something about having an individual meeting first. He'd hoped that, since this was supposed to be a group therapy thing, he could just sort of hang back. Not say anything, at least for the first meeting or two. He understood the theory behind this type of thing, but he wasn't the type to talk about his life with other people. Omegas just weren't supposed to do that. They were meant to stay home and raise pups and not even have to deal with the outside world for the most part.

Except ...

Except that he wasn't a normal Omega anymore. And he wasn't even going to be one legally, once the divorce went through and Eileen and her husband were able to get his designation legally changed to Beta, which meant things like getting a job. Dealing with people.

"Ms. Moseley will see you now."

Castiel got up and followed the redheaded Beta through the door that led to a little hallway. There were two doors along one side of it, the one he had just come through and another directly to the reception desk, and two along the other side, one clearly marked as a restroom and the other apparently Ms. Moseley's office. At the end of the hallway was yet another door. The carpet was a variation on the homey pattern he'd seen in the waiting room. If nothing else, Ms. Moseley clearly wanted to make sure her patients felt welcome and comfortable. That thought eased his mind a little.

Just before they reached the office door, it opened, which ratcheted Castiel's nerves up a bit, but the woman who stepped through had a face as kind as the redhead's was chipper. Her skin and eyes were a rich brown, and she had dimples when she smiled, which she was doing now.

"Castiel? Come on in," she said.

The redhead nodded encouragingly and then turned to go back to the reception area.

Ms. Moseley waved Castiel over to one of the chairs. Funny. He'd had the idea he would be asked to lie down on a couch, but apparently, that was just in movies. Once he sat, she placed a little white box next to the door and turned it on. It made a gentle, oscillating sound.

"For privacy," she said when she saw where Castiel was focusing. "The other members of the group will be arriving soon and going down the hall. You don't have to share with them until you're ready, so I try to avoid accidents."

"I appreciate that," Castiel said.

"So, Castiel, why don't you tell me a little bit about yourself."

"I thought Eileen would have told you about me."

"Oh, she did. But I like to hear from my clients themselves. No matter how good your caseworker is, their perspective is still just that: their perspective."

Huh. Castiel filed that away to ruminate on later.

"I, um, had a pup a little over a week ago," he said, suddenly feeling the pang of little Claire's absence. What was wrong with him that it took until now to miss her? He squashed that down. "There were ... complications, and I ... can't have any more pups."

"I'm sorry to hear that since it's very clear you wish that were different," she said.

What an odd way to word that.

"But I understand the pup was delivered successfully?"

"Yes."

"Then, congratulations are also in order." She gave him a warm smile. "Do you have any pictures?"

Castiel quickly pulled out his wallet and showed Ms. Moseley the picture that had been taken at the hospital. Claire looked like a cross between a human and a raisin, as she had taken extreme objection to having her photo taken and was not shy about letting the world know it. That made Castiel fiercely proud.

"She's beautiful," Ms. Moseley said. "So, let's talk about why you're here and what you're hoping to get out of the group."

Castiel felt his shoulders drop.

"My mate abandoned us," he said. "He's pursuing a divorce so he can mate another Omega who can have more pups. He doesn't even want Claire because she's a girl and most likely either a Beta or an Omega."

"I'm sorry, Castiel," Ms. Moseley said. She didn't continue.

"I'm working with someone, Eileen, the one who recommended me, to change my designation and get a job. I was brought up very traditionally, so, I'm not sure what I can even do for work." Castiel took a deep breath and sighed. "She thinks I need to talk with other Omegas who've been in bad places so that I can see that it's possible to move on. I don't think she understands that... I don't think she understands."

"So, you're looking to learn from other Omegas how to move on from being abandoned by your mate, and find your way in the world with your pup."

"I guess."

"And what do you bring to the group?"

"What?" Castiel felt instantly defensive. What could he possibly bring to the group? He didn't know anything about recovering from trauma or whatever.

"You don't need to know the answer right now," Ms. Moseley said. "But think about it. Because you do bring value with you, Castiel, even if you don't yet recognize it for what it is."

Castiel had a feeling Ms. Moseley would be the one re-evaluating her assessment by the end of this group. At best, he'd be tolerated for as long as he came. More likely, he'd be invited to never come back.

"I'd like to suggest you start keeping a journal." Ms. Moseley reached into her desk and handed over a notebook and pen. This one was plain. No Star Trek logo like the one at the reception desk. "Just jot down your thoughts after group or whenever you feel like it."

"Do I have to give it to you?" Castiel asked.

"Oh no. You hang onto it. If there's anything you want to talk about, you can. Otherwise, just use it as a safe space to process your thoughts and experiences."

Castiel looked at the notebook. He'd never even thought of doing something like this before. He'd thought journals were things that educated people like scientists used. He could read and write, of course. He'd been given a basic education so he could support his pups' education. Pup's. But he'd never thought of using writing as a tool himself.

"It's just about time for group," Ms. Moseley said. "Let's head on down. We'll meet just beforehand again next time, and then we'll decide whether you want to continue with one-on-one therapy, the group, or both."

"Thank you, Ms. Moseley." Castiel reeled at the idea that he was going to have choices. He'd thought his only choice would be to attend or not. This was definitely not what he'd expected at all.

"Call me Missouri," she said as she turned off the noise machine, opened the door, and gestured for him to go before her.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean was running late. He really, really didn't want to go to group today, but he'd missed last week thanks to the absolute hormonal rollercoaster he'd been riding after the incident at work. He needed this, and he knew the fact he didn't want to need it was just a honking red flag that he really, really did.

Sometimes he hated that being a nurse made him see stuff like that.

When he got to Missouri's office, he signed in with Charlie and rushed back to the conference room Missouri used for her groups. It didn't look like a conference room, really, but that's what Dean assumed it had been before she'd gotten her hands on it. Not too many office buildings came with living rooms, after all.

The couches and overstuffed chairs were almost full today. Most everyone there, Dean already knew: Garth, whose late mother-in-law had tried to kill him, Gabriel, who was hiding from his family and probably using a different name and had yet to really talk about that, Sarah, the art critic who'd almost been strangled by an artist who took exception to an Omega having opinions about their work, Hannah, whose super-religious family had all but locked her in a cellar and then sold her to an asshole Alpha, and Amelia, whose slightly less religious family had thrown her out when she declared she wanted to be a veterinarian. Gabriel was over at the little food and drink counter Missouri kept well stocked and was still dumping half a bowl of sugar in his coffee, so it looked like that had kept things from getting started, meaning Dean wasn't really late after all.

When he went to grab his usual seat, though, Dean realized there was someone new. The guy had near-black just-got-out-of-bed hair, the bluest eyes Dean had ever seen, and looked pale enough that Dean wanted to order some bloodwork on him, stat. He was also in Dean's favorite chair. Dean was a little annoyed, not at the guy (he couldn't have known) but at everyone else. Then again, even Missouri couldn't have been sure he'd make it today. So, instead of his favorite squishy chair, he found himself on the couch with Gabe, who was probably going to start vibrating through it once he drank that coffee.

Awesome.

"Now that we're all here," Missouri said, "we have a new participant here today, so let's do a round of introductions. Let's just go with names for now."

They all went around and said their names. The new guy, Castiel, looked like he was furiously working to memorize them all as if there'd be a quiz later. Dean felt kind of bad for him. He remembered when he'd been new. It was pretty tough coming into this close-knit group of people and try to fit in.

"So, now that we all know each other's names, let's catch up on how everyone's doing. Dean, you want to catch us up, since you missed last week?"

Again: awesome.

"Uh, nothing much to tell," Dean said. "There was an incident at work. An asshole Alpha went on a rampage and stunk the place up. Took me a couple days to get back to normal."

"That sounds like a little more than 'nothing much,'" Missouri said. "I'm sorry you weren't able to make it here to process that."

"Mostly, I just stayed home and worked on my baby ... my car." He suppressed an eye roll. The new guy wouldn't know what he was talking about. That was the only reason for saying it that way. It had nothing to do with Sam. "Not that she needed an oil change and a tune-up, but I did."

"I get that," Sarah said. "When something makes me flash back, I like to paint. A lot. Sometimes I'll just paint over the same canvas over and over again, just to get it out of my system."

"You guys are BO-ring!" Gabe said before taking a final gulp of his caffeinated abomination.

"Not all of us get our kicks playing pranks on our coworkers," Garth said. His hand, covered with a sock puppet he called Mr. Fizzles, twitched in his lap, but fortunately stayed put. Dean kind of got why Garth needed to use it to talk sometimes, especially considering some of the stuff they got into in here, but it still creeped him out.

"How has work been since you've been back?" Missouri asked.

"It's been fine." Dean shrugged. "I mean, it sucks they had to cover my shifts, and I spent a day or three wondering if I should just go back to working on cars for Bobby. But you can run into asshole Alphas anywhere, and besides, I love my job."

Blessedly, the focus moved on from him after that, as Hannah talked about her struggle with finding a job she both was qualified for and thought she would find interesting. Dean noticed that the new guy seemed particularly intent on her story. He wondered if that meant the new guy's story was similar.

When the meeting ended, Dean made it a point to go over to the new guy and talk to him for a second. His scent was faint, hard to make out at first, but then Dean caught enough of it to identify it. Leather. Nice.

"Hey, dude," he said, "sorry we took up all the time today. You never got a chance to get a word in edgewise."

"It's fine. I think it'll be a little while before I'm ready to say much."

That seemed like an understatement. The guy looked like he was about to crawl out of his skin.

"Fair enough," was all that Dean said, though. "I'll see you next time."

The other guy just nodded and fled.

"Dean," Missouri said from right by his elbow, making him jump, "let's schedule a one-on-one session. It's clear you're not up for processing this experience in group, but it sounds to me like you do want to process it."

Dean turned that over in his head a couple of times, then nodded. He stopped by Charlie's desk on the way out to make the appointment.

"I have a late spot on Thursday," Charlie said.

"I'll take it." Working nights meant Dean was definitely not about the mornings. Getting himself here for group on Wednesday mornings was by far the exception to his week, not the rule.

"You're in. See you then, Winchester."

Dean waved as he headed out the door. If he was lucky, he'd be able to take a nap before he had to work tonight.

#

Once he'd retrieved Claire from Eileen's friend Sue, Castiel felt about a thousand times better. Claire seemed fine, which was good but also sort of hurt a little. Just having her back made him feel less like he was about to fly apart at the seams.

By the time they got home, Claire was starting to fuss. She'd finished the two bottles he'd pumped and left with Sue, so unsurprisingly, she was wet, not hungry, though soon enough she'd be that too. Once he had her changed, though, she snuggled up to him and fell right to sleep. That gave him time to think about his day so far.

Ms. ... Missouri seemed pleasant enough. It was clear, though, from the way she ran her group that she would push people when she thought it would help them. That was worrying. Everyone there seemed to trust her, though, including Hannah, who he'd been surprised to see. He hadn't seen his cousin since they were both pups. From what she'd said in the group, her life had been similar to his, although her Alpha had turned out to be abusive immediately. He was glad she'd managed to get away, and without having to go through what Castiel had.

That thought caught him by surprise. His mother would say it was a sign of what a degenerate age they were in that an Omega could sue for divorce at all. The only reason she hadn't outright disowned Castiel was that Bartholomew had been the one to file for divorce once he learned that Castiel had been given a complete hysterectomy due to the complications with birthing Claire. He'd been agitated enough when he'd learned she'd be born by Cesarean section rather than "normally." Apparently he'd regretted telling them to "do everything" when Castiel had started hemorrhaging, since that included removing his uterus rather than allowing him to bleed to death. Of course, the fact that he was no longer fertile made him a tragic figure in his mother's eyes, and he couldn't disagree with her. Now he would have to learn how to live like a Beta, a completely new concept to him. He wasn't sure whether it would be easier, like Hannah, learning to live in the world as an emancipated Omega, rather than a Beta. Certainly, the world held more options for Betas, even if emancipated Omegas officially had the same rights. But what good were opportunities that he had no idea how to make use of?

He'd barely thought that question when the doorbell rang. He hefted Claire into an easier position and answered it. It was Eileen, checking how group had gone.

Castiel gestured for her to take a seat at the kitchen table while he put Claire down, then offered her a cup of tea once his hands were free.

"I'll have one if you do," she said. "Good job, by the way. I didn't know you were learning to sign."

"You're helping me," he said, signing as he went. "It seems like the least I can do."

"It might be useful for Claire too," Eileen said. "Lots of people teach their pups sign, at least for the first few years. It's easier for them until they learn to speak."

"Really?" Cas aksed, then turned to put the kettle on, giving himself a moment to think before he turned back to her. He pulled out a couple of mugs and put tea bags into them. When he rejoined her at the table, he continued, "I didn't know that. It must give a great advantage to start out bilingual so young."

"I think so," Eileen agreed, "though a lot of parents stop once kids learn to speak."

That seemed foolish, in Castiel's opinion. He supposed it would be more work to keep advancing his own knowledge of the language, but then Claire would be bilingual, even if he never got quite that proficient.

"Anyway," Eileen continued, "how did the group go?"

"It was interesting," Castiel said. "My cousin was there."

"Don't tell me their name," Eileen said quickly. "If they're not my client, it's not my business."

Castiel nodded. That seemed fair.

"It was interesting hearing some of their stories. They're all different, even if we've all got, well, _that_ in common." He still couldn't quite say the word Still couldn't quite attribute it to Bartholomew. He hadn't ever hurt Castiel, at least not physically.

"And what did you think of Missouri?"

"She seems nice. She wants to see me again before the next group. Oh, and she wants me to journal. I almost forgot about that."

"Journaling can be a great way to get your thoughts organized," Eileen agreed. "Stop them running around inside your head and get them where you can see them."

"I've never done this before," Castiel admitted. "I don't really know what to do. What if I do it wrong?"

"I mean, just write down whatever is in your head," Eileen said. "The only way to do it wrong is to do it in a way that doesn't work for you."

The kettle whistled, and Castiel took advantage of the break to turn that over in his mind. That was a very different way to think about things. Maybe it was just the way Betas like Eileen thought about things. It would probably be a good idea if he learned how to do that.

Once he'd served Eileen her tea, she took a sip and gave him a smile. "This is great. So, have you thought about some of the jobs we talked about?"

"I thought receptionist sounded easy," Castiel said, "but then I saw how it worked at Missouri's office. It looks like her receptionist uses the computer a lot."

"We will definitely need to get you up to speed on computer basics," Eileen said with a nod. "There's a training program you can do from home."

"But ..." Castiel took a deep breath and plowed ahead, "I don't have a computer."

Eileen had had to help him apply for rental assistance just so he could have this apartment. Surely she must realize he only had the basics?

"Hmmm, there might be a grant we could apply for to help with that."

More paperwork. Well, more forms, which he'd have to fill out on her laptop.

"In the meantime, there are computers you can use at the library."

"But I'd have to bring Claire," Castiel said. "Aren't libraries ... quiet?"

"Not always," Eileen said. "And she's being pretty quiet right now, as far as I can tell."

That made Castiel do a double-take. Should he ask how she could tell? Would that be rude?

"If she were crying, you'd be looking over to where you put her down for her nap," Eileen explained, saving him the embarrassment of asking.

Huh, he should have thought of that.

"I'll try."

Apparently, that was the right answer because Eileen's face lit up. She pulled out a piece of paper and wrote something down, then passed it over. Castiel took it and tucked it in his pocket.

"I know it seems like there are a lot of roadblocks," Eileen said. "You're right. There are. But we'll get past them, I promise."

Castiel nodded uncertainly at her. Before he could voice any more doubts, though, Claire started to fuss.

"I'll get going so you can see to her," Eileen said. She stood up and moved toward the door, then looked back to him. "I'll let you know about the computer grant."

"Thank you," Castiel said and signed.

Once he'd closed the door behind Eileen, he went into the other room where Claire was lying in her crib. She wasn't quite crying yet, so she didn't get too annoyed with him for checking her diaper, which was clean.

"Are you hungry?" he asked. Then, thinking of his conversation, repeated the question with the sign. She didn't answer in either language, of course, but when he picked her up, she started nuzzling for milk, which he decided was as solid an answer as he could expect from a two-week old pup.


	3. Chapter 3

"So, no flashbacks or anything?" Missouri prodded.

Dean thought he'd made that pretty clear with the blow-by-blow description of The Incident he'd just spent the last eternity reliving.

"Not the way you mean," Dean replied.

"Oh, and how do I mean, since you can read my mind?"

"Well, not how people usually mean," Dean said. "I didn't see Alistair or think I was back in his house or anything."

"Mm-hmm."

"But ... I did kind of go back into that headspace. Victor had to medicate me before I could even understand that I hadn't done anything wrong." That had been the weird part, now that he thought back to it. It almost would've made more sense if he'd outright hallucinated Alistair or that someone was going to beat him.

"It sounds like you translated old responses into your current reality," Missouri said. "What did you think was going to happen to you for doing something wrong?"

"I'd lose my job," Dean said. "I must've done something horribly wrong, maybe even hurt a patient, even though I couldn't think how that could be true. They'd fire me, and I'd be lucky to get any nursing job after that, especially in labor and delivery."

"So, still an existential threat of a sort," Missouri said, "but not physical harm. This is good, Dean."

It was really hard to see it that way. A lot of people thought Omegas shouldn't be working anyway. If you asked Dean, he thought it would make more sense to restrict Alphas. They were the ones who turned into rage monsters. But, nobody had asked him, so the world was what it was. Really, if he did lose his job or even his license, Bobby would hire him. He wouldn't end up broke and homeless. And he knew that. Now. When he wasn't in full panic mode.

"I still panicked," he said.

"I will guarantee you, Dean Winchester, that every Omega on that floor was scared. That is a built-in response meant to help keep you alive when there's an enraged Alpha nearby," Missouri said. Before he could interrupt, she continued, "Your body's been trained to react as if there's no way to keep yourself safe. No way to escape. But what you just described to me is light-years closer to a realistic response than you would've had a year ago. Even a few months ago."

"I guess," he admitted.

"My main concern is that you're still internalizing that rage at yourself," she went on. "You assumed the rage you scented was due to something you had done. That's the part you might want to work on next."

"And what would that look like?" he asked. "More journaling?"

"In part," Missouri said with a smile. "I'd also like you to try some affirmations."

"What, like 'not everything that goes wrong is my fault'?"

"Sort of. They tend to work better when you frame them as positives, though."

Dean pondered that for a minute.

"Journal on that," Missouri said. "What would it look like to say you aren't responsible for everything that goes wrong without using any negatives."

Dean glanced at the clock. Sure, it had felt like an eternity while he'd been recounting The Incident, but now he felt surprised that their session was already over.

"Email me if you have an a-ha moment," she said. "Otherwise, we can chat for a couple of minutes after group next time."

That was one of the things he liked about the way Missouri did things. Yes, much of her practice was scheduled like most therapists. But she left some leeway here and there, so you never felt like there'd be a time when you couldn't get help if you needed it.

"Sounds good," Dean said. He shrugged back into his jacket and headed out, saying his goodbyes to Missouri and Charlie as he went.  
There was just about enough time to run home, grab a bite to eat, and get ready for work. He probably should've already been in his scrubs, but Dean had found that he didn't really like coming into Missouri's office in uniform. Once he stepped into his scrubs, he was "on." When he came here, he needed to be "off."

#

Castiel was nervous heading into his second visit with Missouri Moseley, but not nearly as much as he had been the first time.

"You were right," he told her. "Getting my thoughts out on paper really did help me start to make sense of them."

"Good! Did anything come up that you want to talk about?" she asked.

"I don't know." Castiel shrugged. "A lot of it was about how I don't know how to be not-an-Omega, but I don't really have a choice."

"Well," Missouri said, "it's true that you no longer have the choice whether to biologically bear any more children. What other choices do you feel have been taken from you?"

"I mean, I love that I'm able to give Claire all my attention," he said. "That's how I was brought up to believe it is supposed to be: the Omega stays home with the pups and raises them. But I can't stay on welfare forever, and I'll have to get a job."

"Your Alpha was fairly well off, wasn't he?" Missouri asked.

"It's not about the money," Castiel said. "Claire and I don't need to be somewhere fancy."

"That's not what I mean," Missouri said. "But it is very much about the money. As you say, you will need a job to support the two of you, unless the court awards you sufficient alimony in the divorce."

"They won't," Castiel said. "He's the one divorcing me. That's why I'm getting re-designated as Beta, so I have more job opportunities. It just doesn't feel like me."

"That is one of the unfair things in our society," Missouri said. "But, Castiel, tell me, what job opportunities would you be looking for that you could not get as an Omega?"

At that, Castiel just shrugged. He'd completed the basic computer course at the library, and Eileen had given him some job descriptions to look at. Nothing to apply for yet, thank goodness. He had a few more weeks before that would be necessary. Nothing had particularly interested him, regardless of whether it was open to Omegas or only Betas and Alphas.

"Then perhaps you don't need to rush into that decision," Missouri said. "The option will always be there. There's no time limit on how long you've been infertile before you can apply for Beta status, right?"

"No, that's true," Castiel said. "Eileen told me that too."

"And if there's a job you really want," Missouri continued, "even if it's not been traditionally available to Omegas, you wouldn't be the first Omega to challenge those limitations. You don't have to be labeled as something that you are not."

"That doesn't seem fair," Castiel said. Eileen had also given him some materials to read about transitioning secondary gender designations. "If I identified as Beta, I'd have to get a hysterectomy to change my designation. If I was assigned Beta at presentation but identified as an Omega, there'd be no way to change it. Why should I have options other people don't?"

"Perhaps your calling is to become an activist and change these rules that you find unfair."

That actually sounded like the first job that held some interest for him. He had no idea what it would look like, who he'd work for, or what the job would even be, but it would feel like he was doing something worth doing. Not just answering phones for someone or taking tickets at the movie theater or typing endless numbers into a computer.

"Maybe," he said. "I'll have to ask Eileen about that."

"You do that," Missouri said. "Right now, though, it's time we headed into group."

Everyone who was there last time was there again. Castiel noticed that Gabriel was at the sideboard as he'd been last week. He decided to get himself a cup of tea if only to have something to do with his hands. As it turned out, there was quite a selection of black, green, and herbal teas. Castiel decided on peppermint.

"Good choice!" Gabriel said with a bit more enthusiasm than Castiel thought a cup of tea merited. He passed Castiel what was left of the bowl of sugar. "I mean, who doesn't want a hot melted candy cane in a cup, am I right?"

"That sounds less appetizing than I had thought," Castiel said. "I think it is probably sweet enough on its own. I'll pass on the sugar. Maybe a drop of honey."

There was one of those little bear-shaped squeeze bottles of honey next to the box of teas. Castiel reached for it, popped the lid, and squeezed just a bit into his cup. It might not even need it, but better to make it a little too sweet now than to decide it needed help after the group had started. Gabriel, he had noticed last time, had no compunction about getting up for seconds. Or thirds for that matter. But he'd been coming here a while, from what Castiel could tell, as had most of them. It would be a while, if ever before Castiel would feel comfortable doing that.

Castiel noted that the green overstuffed chair he had sat in was now occupied by the fellow who'd arrived late last week. Maybe that was his usual chair. Castiel could see why. It was certainly comfortable. He ended up sitting on the couch with Garth. Garth seemed pleasant enough, but Castiel really would have preferred to sit next to someone a little less ... enthusiastic.

"It's so nice to meet you," Garth said. "Do you think you'll feel like talking this week? I'm sure we'd all really love to get to know you. I remember how uncomfortable it can be at first, but once you get to know us and we get to know you, we'll be like one big family, just you wait and see."

"That's encouraging," Castiel said. He had a hard time imagining Garth feeling uncomfortable in any group. He seemed very much the sort of person who could walk into a room of strangers and have a dozen close friends in five minutes. What had he worried about when he'd first come here? Or maybe this was who he was now. Had he been like Castiel when he'd first come? Castiel wasn't sure if that thought was encouraging or just disconcerting.

"All right," Missouri said. "Looks like we're all here. Who'd like to get us started today?"

"I'll go," Garth said, to what Castiel was sure was absolutely no one's surprise. "I had a great week. The twins started to crawl, and they were just getting into everything! I'll bet they'll be walking in no time!"

The story of the twins' adventures in crawling made Castiel very glad that he'd only had the one pup. He could only imagine the handful Claire would be once she was able to move around under her own power. If there had been two of her? Castiel had no idea how Garth was managing twins, even if he was still with his wife.

That led to him wondering who would watch Claire once he found a job. Sue was being very kind, and Claire seemed to take to her, but this was a temporary arrangement. Eileen had said something about daycare vouchers, but he hadn't been able to follow quite how that worked. This was all more than he'd ever expected to have to worry about when raising a pup. All because his stupid body had tried to kill him. Maybe Claire would've been better off if it had succeeded. Bartholomew might not have rejected her in that scenario, and he was well off enough to provide for her. Or he might not have, and she could be in the foster system. No, it was just as well Castiel was still here, even if he was ruined.

"Castiel?" Missouri called to him. "You look upset. Is there something you want to share?"

He snapped out of it. What was his problem, drifting off into his own thoughts like that?

"Not really," he said. "Just ... I'm glad to hear your pups are doing well, Garth. Though you have me worried what my little one will get into once she reaches that stage."

The look on Missouri's face made it clear she did not think that was the whole story. But she moved on to someone else. The guy who'd been late last week. Dean. The one who smelled faintly of apples and cinnamon.

"Nothing new to tell," he said. "Work's been fine. No panic attacks or anything. People are still treating me like I'm made out of glass, though."

"It sounds like they care about how you're doing," Missouri said.

"Yeah, I get it." Dean sighed. "It just makes me feel incompetent or something."

"Has anyone else had experiences like that?" Missouri prompted.

"I have," Hannah said. "I know what you mean, Dean. It's like people don't trust you to know when you're okay and when you're not. The fact that it's hard to recognize that you're having a panic attack _when_ you're having it doesn't help."

"Yeah." Dean ran his fingers through his sandy brown hair, making it stand up more than usual. He slouched down further into the chair. "I know they mean well."

When he didn't say anything else, the conversation moved on to Hannah and around the room. It was interesting to hear the others' stories, and Castiel supposed it was good to just be with other Omegas who were working on improving their lives. He wasn't quite sure what, exactly, he was supposed to take away from it though, never mind what he was supposed to bring to the group.

Once the group wrapped up, Castiel pulled out his phone to call the cab that would bring him to Sue's house to pick up Claire, after which she'd drive him back to his apartment. He was surprised when a shadow fell over his phone, a shadow that, when he looked up, was being cast by Dean.  
"Hey dude," he said. "I didn't mean to scare you off last week. Just trying to make room for you, y'know?"

"Thank you." Castiel smiled. Everyone had been very welcoming last week, and it was good to see that, despite having been late, Dean was too. He also had the most remarkable eyes, which was absolutely not something Castiel should be noticing about anyone, but particularly another Omega. "That's very kind of you."

"Sometimes a handful of us go across the street for coffee after," Dean said, "to talk about stuff that isn't what we talk about here. You wanna come?"

Against all rationality, Castiel wanted to say yes, but there was a practical problem.

"I have to pick up my pup," he said. "Maybe next week I'll see if the sitter doesn't mind watching her a little longer."

"I hear that," Dean said.

"You have a pup?" That wasn't something that had come up this week or last for that matter.

"I have two, actually," Dean replied. "A daughter named Emma and a son named Ben. They live with their mothers, so I'm not usually the one having to plan child care, but sometimes I am the child care."

He had two pups. With different people. People who were apparently female Alphas. Yes, Castiel had best get over whatever nonsense had him feeling incredibly put out by this information.

"So, perhaps next week," Castiel said. "Meanwhile, I'd best finish this so my cab gets here."

"Cab?" Dean looked scandalized. "Dude, save your money. I can give you a ride home. I mean, if you want. I shouldn't ..."

"That would be wonderful." The words were out before Castiel could think them through, and now he couldn't take them back without being incredibly rude.

"Really? Um, okay." Dean's smile made those amazing green eyes light up. "Let's go."


	4. Chapter 4

Dean wasn't sure what had come over him, other than a knee-jerk reaction to any avoidable expense. Cas's clothing actually looked kind of businessy, what with the suit and the trench coat, so maybe he didn't need to worry about that sort of thing. Of course, Dean had no real idea of what his situation was.

"So," he asked, once he got the engine running, "where're we going?"

"Um, I have to go to 44 Sunset Drive to pick her up," Cas said. "Sue can take me home from there. She has the base of Claire's baby seat."

Dean bit his tongue to shut down the impulse to say they could just pick up the base of the safety seat too. Dean was trying to be friendly, not creep on the guy who'd just given birth a few weeks ago, and probably wanted nothing to do with anybody right now. Well, not like that. Not that he'd be interested in another Omega anyway. Not that Dean was interested in him.

He really needed his brain to shut up. The fact that Cas's scent blended almost perfectly with Baby's leather upholstery wasn't helping. Also not something he should be thinking about.

Of course, that meant he needed to think of something else to say. Something that wasn't about group. Or flirty. Or about his job. Ooh, maybe he should ask about Cas's job? No. Jobs were not safe topics for Omegas. Pup! Pups were safe.

"So your pup's name is Claire?"

"Yes." Cas beamed. "Claire Naomi Harrington."

"Do you have any pictures of her?"

"Well, yes, but I don't think I should pass you my phone while you're driving," Cas said. "Besides, you can just meet her when we get to Sue's house."

Dean should probably not be as happy to hear that as he was. Seriously, he barely knew the guy. Which begged the question of why he was trusting Dean to meet his pup so soon. Though maybe he'd be more guarded if Dean weren't a fellow Omega.

Also, he'd run out of conversation.

"How about your pups?" Cas asked. "My Claire is three weeks old. How old are yours?"

Three weeks? Granted it was hard to tell much about the guy under the suit and coat, but Dean would never have guessed he'd given birth that recently. He bit his tongue on all the questions that raised, though, and answered what he'd been asked.

"Emma's going on eight, and Ben's just turned four," Dean said. He felt a smile make its way across his face, as it always did when he thought about them. "Both good ages in their own way. You'll see that as Claire gets bigger. Most ages have their pluses. Except for two. They call it the terrible twos for a reason."

"I'll bear that in mind," Cas replied. "Make sure she ages directly from one to three."

Dean burst out laughing. He hadn't expected a joke like that from this guy. He seemed so serious.

When they pulled onto Sunset Drive, it was exactly the sort of neighborhood Dean had expected, though he'd never spent much time on this side of Lawrence. Rolling lawns, perfectly manicured shrubbery, flagstone walkways with flowers lining them, and houses that looked like they belonged in magazines or something. This was the sort of neighborhood where a guy like Cas belonged. Apparently, he didn't live here, but no doubt wherever this Sue was going to drive him would be equally pristine. He did not, Dean was sure, live in an apartment over an automotive repair shop and salvage yard.

Number 44 was a pleasant blue ranch-style house. Less with the shrubbery, more with the flowers. Dean killed the engine and got out of the car, hurrying to let Cas out. The guy already had the door open, though.

"Oh, thank you," he said, surprise evident in his voice. "That's very gallant of you."

"Hey, Omegas can be gallant too," Dean said with a wink. He internally smacked himself upside the head. He was not supposed to be flirting with this guy!

"I suppose we can," was all Cas said in reply as he got out. "Come on, I'll introduce you to Sue and then Claire."

Sue was surprised to see Cas had brought a friend, which Dean should have expected. Cas was flustered though. Dean took pity on him.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Dean said, turning on his most charming smile. "When Cas said he was going to take a cab, well, I had a bit of extra time and figured I'd give him a ride. And he's such a proud Papa, he couldn't help wanting to show off his pup."

"Oh, of course." Sue smiled.

"Cas?" the guy asked him at the same time.

Whoops. Dean turned and started to work on damage control.

"Um, sorry. I have a habit of shortening people's names," Dean said. "If it bothers you, I can ..."

"No, no, that's fine." Cas smiled shyly. "It's just that nobody's ever called me that before. I like it."

"Oh. Cool."

Sue returned with one of those convertible baby carriers, pup sound asleep in it, and a bag slung over her shoulder. She expertly slid the bag off and handed it over to Cas, who shouldered it easily then took the pup in her seat. He angled her toward Dean so he could see her. She wrinkled up her nose and yawned, then opened her eyes.

She had eyes every bit as blue as her Papa's and a hint of golden hair. Dean wondered if it would stay that way or if she'd eventually have dark hair like her Papa. She made cute little noises and shoved her fist in her mouth.

Dean was entranced. He loved infants. Of course, he did. Why else would he have fought to work in labor and delivery when "everybody" knew it wasn't an area where Omegas should work? Oh sure, they were expected to be fine with pups, but not dealing with all the things that could go wrong in having them. But Dean had insisted, and really, up until a few weeks ago, he'd never had a problem.

Actually, it just figured it was right around the same time that Claire had been born. Otherwise, while Lawrence Memorial's L&D unit was a pretty good size, there would still have been a reasonable chance Dean would have met Claire and her Papa a bit sooner, if he hadn't lost a couple of days to that nonsense.

A corner of Dean's brain reminded him that he should be glad Cas and Claire had never been his patients because if things felt murky now, they'd be a real hot mess with that factored in. Not that any of that should matter because they were just two Omegas in a therapy group together and Dean had given Cas a ride home. Not even home, just far enough to pick up his pup from ... from the woman who was no longer standing in the doorway, which was now closed.

"Castiel," she called out.

Dean turned to look and saw that she was coming out of the garage holding what looked like the base to Claire's safety seat.

"Sue?" Cas asked as he moved to walk past Dean.

"Oh, were you not planning ... I thought ..." Sue looked back and forth between them.

"I can definitely take you the rest of the way," Dean said as he walked alongside Cas. "If you're okay having me drive your pup. I mean, I'm a good driver, and Baby'd protect her if we come across any not-so-good drivers."

He was babbling. He really needed to shut up. Yup, shutting up now.

"Just make sure you take the base with you," she said. "We can put it back in my car when I pick you up next time. They make it to be easy for a reason."

Next thing Dean knew, he was securing the base of the safety seat into the back of his car.

"Wow, you're good at that," Cas said. "I guess it's one of those things you never forget, even if it's been a few years."

What? Oh. He was assuming Dean hadn't needed to worry about this kind of safety seat since Ben had needed one. He still needed a booster seat, but not this kind. No, Dean had plenty of practice demonstrating these to new parents and then talking them through doing it themselves. But he'd promised himself not to talk about work, so he just shrugged.

Cas' neighborhood was decidedly not a carbon copy of Sue's. It wasn't an apartment over a salvage shop either, but it was leaning in that direction. In fact, Cas's apartment building was only a couple of streets over from Bobby's shop. The building was all ground level, at least, and the landlord seemed to be doing a decent job keeping it up, going by the fresh paint job. Cas directed Dean to the parking spot closest to his door.

"One thing that's good about not having a car myself," Cas said, "the spot is free when I need it for a visitor. Mostly my caseworker, but now you too."

"I'm honored." Dean gave a grin that he hoped made his statement come out as a lighthearted joke, despite the fact it felt absurdly true. "Here, let me give you a hand."

Dean grabbed the baby seat base once Cas had lifted Claire in her carrier seat out of it, then grabbed the bag full of whatever pup-care stuff Cas had sent with her. It weighed more than Dean had expected, and he worried briefly about Cas (or anyone who'd just given birth, really) having to lug around something that heavy.

Cas got the door open and brought Claire inside. Dean waited on the doorstep to pass him the other items, only to have Cas look at him once he'd set Claire's seat down on the couch and ask, "Aren't you coming in?"

"Um, sure." Dean stepped in and set the bag down in a spot by the door that seemed to be made for it, resting the seat base on top of it. He closed the door behind him.

The living room, which the entrance went directly into, was small and not particularly decorated. The couch and chairs looked comfy enough, but the place just didn't feel lived in. Dean was tempted to ask but bit the inside of his cheek instead. If Cas had just moved here after giving birth to Claire, that was not likely to have been a happy choice. It might have to do with why Cas had been at group, and he'd promised himself (and sort of promised Cas) that he wouldn't bring up anything related to group.)

Casting around for anything to say before awkwardly excusing himself, Dean noticed an interesting book beside the couch. Sure, there was What to Expect the First Year, like most new parents would have. But right next to it was Sign Language for Kids. Was Claire Deaf? Was that why Cas was suddenly single? Dean tamped down a wave of righteous indignation.

"You're learning sign?" he asked calmly. He was sure it was calmly. He was totally going to sic Eileen on Cas's ex-Alpha if this was what it looked like.

"Hm?" Cas looked up from where he'd been checking Claire's diaper. "Oh, yes. My caseworker mentioned something about using sign language with infants. When I looked into it, the 'baby sign' books were all set up to just make communication easier until she can talk, and then you're supposed to stop when they turn three. I'd rather she just grow up bilingual. Why waste the opportunity, right? So I'll be learning it with her."

Dean breathed a faint sigh of relief. He noticed that both books had labels with strings of numbers and letters on them taped to the spine. So, library books. That'd make it tougher, but he really admired Cas's approach.

"That's cool," he said. "Definitely good to start young. I've been working on learning for a couple of years now. Gotta warn you, she'll probably be better than you pretty quick, long as she gets plenty of practice."

"I'm counting on it." Cas put Claire's clothes back together and picked her up from the carrier seat, apparently satisfied that all was clean and dry that should be. "Thank you for the ride, Dean. I appreciate it."

"Anytime," Dean said. "Guess I'll see you next week."

Cas shifted Claire to one shoulder and waved. Dean waved back and headed back to the car. Once he was sat down inside, he let out a long sigh. Cas seemed just about perfect. Dean envied whatever Alpha he eventually got together with. He started the engine and headed home.

#

Castiel really hoped he was going to like working more than he liked job-hunting. Eileen had assured him that was at least possible. So had the librarian who had shown him how to use a couple of online databases to find jobs.

Clerical jobs seemed like the best option. They tended to have regular schedules, which would make arranging care for Claire easier. Eileen had helped him apply for daycare vouchers so, even though he didn't particularly like the idea, he had that option. Sue was a sweetheart, but he'd be taking advantage if he just kept using her. Besides, someday there'd be another single parent Eileen was helping, and they'd need childcare too.  
The problem was, Castiel didn't exactly have clerical skills. He was good at organizing things, and he'd done the self-taught certificate on basic word processing and spreadsheet use, but he wasn't sure he'd be able to feed and house Claire on an entry-level job without more than that.

"It's a place to start," Eileen had assured him at their last meeting. She signed as she spoke, and he was starting to get the hang of it, though he understood that sim-com wasn't quite the same. "You're on the voucher waiting lists for daycare and for rent. We've got you set up for food stamps until you start earning a little more."

That had blown his mind. Some of these entry-level jobs, like the one he was supposed to interview for this afternoon, paid below the federal poverty level. How was that legal? And he'd checked: it wasn't just because he was an Omega. Which led to another issue.

"I don't think I want to change my designation," he said. "I've been Omega all my life, and I don't even see much in the way of benefits if I were to change to Beta on paper."

"That's okay," Eileen told him. "Nobody's saying you have to. You're the one who thought you'd have to in order to get a job, remember?"

Yes, he did. Apparently, some of the things he'd been taught growing up, things that Bartholomew had reinforced, were well out of date. Yes, there were some restrictions on the jobs an Omega could get, but Missouri was right: people challenged those restrictions and sometimes they even won.  
If his mother would do anything other than just hang up the phone on him, Castiel would love to call her and inform her just how wrong she had been. But, unsurprisingly, she, like Bartholomew, would not lower herself to speak to a broken Omega. Apparently, if he'd done the decent thing and died in childbirth, he'd be a sainted memory that Claire would be told about at family occasions. Since he hadn't, she was as anathema as he was.

There had been a time when Castiel would have agreed with this assessment. That time became an unreachable past the second he'd seen Claire. Hadn't even held her yet. The nurses were cleaning her up and doing whatever they did, just as the surgeon declared that Castiel was going to bleed out. Bartholomew's rage had filled the room then, and Castiel had taken it as support for him to fight, to stay here to raise their daughter properly.  
It wasn't until Castiel woke up later and looked over to the bassinet holding his pup, reassuring her that he'd always be there for her, that one of the nurses had come in with the social worker and the surgeon to break the news. Castiel had needed a hysterectomy to stop the bleeding. He would never have any more pups. Bartholomew had assaulted the surgeon and been escorted from the building by security, and every Omega on the floor had needed anti-anxiety medication until the stench of his rage had cleared. It hadn't taken his lawyer more than an hour, though, to serve the hospital with papers stating that he was washing his hands of his damaged Omega and the pup who'd ruined him. And, of course, that he wouldn't be paying for any of it.

Pamela, the social worker, had connected him with Eileen and helped him get set up in this little apartment. They'd even gotten him some clothes. Interview clothes, primarily, but a couple of around the house things too. And diapers for Claire. Lots of diapers. So clearly there were people who didn't agree with Castiel's parents or Bartholomew.

The problem was, did he throw out everything he'd been taught? If he legally changed his designation to Beta, that went against his parents' teachings. So did getting a job as an Omega, though, not to mention the limitations on what types of jobs he could have. But no Alpha would have him now, not that Castiel wanted another Alpha, but he did need a way to take care of Claire and himself. There were no options that would be acceptable. Just ... how unacceptable of a choice could he make while still remaining a good person?

Eileen took a while to answer when he asked her that. Finally, she said, "I can't tell you what to do, or how to feel about it, Castiel. I can just help you do it."

"But what do you believe?" he pressed. "You must believe something about the role of Omegas in the world, to do this job."

"I do," she said. "You'd probably consider me pretty radical, but I don't personally believe there should be any restrictions on what an Omega can do just because they're an Omega. Just like I don't believe any jobs should be closed to me just for being Deaf. It's not quite the same, but there are tools I can use to manage just about any job. Same for Omegas."

"At least I don't have to worry about heat release days," Castiel said.

"Are you sure about that?" Eileen asked. "You should check with your doctor next time you go in for a visit."

Castiel made a mental note to do so. He hadn't actually asked about that at his one-week visit. He'd just sort of assumed that if he was sterile, he wouldn't have heats anymore. Why would he?

"Mr. Novak?" The motherly Asian lady who'd been behind the desk when Castiel had arrived, was now standing at the door that presumably led to the office of the person who would be interviewing him. "Mr. Blake will see you now."

Castiel took a deep breath, tried to remember everything Eileen had taught him, and followed her into the hallway.


	5. Chapter 5

The meeting was a good one, Dean thought, even if some of it had been rather predictable. Sometimes it was as much about having the group to check in with as anything, though there were also weeks when Dean felt like they did way more at the coffee shop across the street afterward.

"I got a job," Cas said, just then. He sounded like he'd just announced that he'd run a marathon and won, proud but also exhausted. No wonder he was looking down at his shoes. "It's not much. Just some typing and filing for an art gallery."

"Congratulations, Castiel!" Garth yelled.

Everyone else echoed a bit more calmly, including Dean.

"It may not feel like much, Castiel," Missouri said, "but it's an important first step. And you'll see just how important filing is when your boss needs something for an urgent meeting."

Cas nodded a bit shyly. He still hadn't lifted his eyes from his shoes. He hadn't seemed quite this shy when Dean had driven him home last week, but maybe that was because it was one on one. Maybe Castiel had trouble with speaking in front of groups, in which case group was probably not going to work out well for him.

"Is there anything else you'd like to tell us?" Missouri asked. "Because it looks to me like there is."

Missouri had an uncanny way of reading them. She'd called Dean on his bullshit so many times, he swore she had it on speed dial.

"I just ... I don't know how to be an Omega who has a job. That's not who I was brought up to be, you know?" Cas said.

There were murmurs of agreement around the room. Most of them had had the exact same shit drilled into them. Hell, that was probably why Dean had gone into nursing. It was a job, but it was still taking care of people. Not that his father approved of it.

"And ... and if I don't follow that teaching, what about all the other things my parents taught me?" Cas continued. "How do I know what's right or what's wrong, if some of what they taught me was wrong? What if I ignore some other rule, and it turns out that one, I should've followed?"

"I think all of us have struggled with that to some extent," Hannah said. "I think you just said it, though: we figure it out when we make mistakes."

"But what if it's a mistake that hurts someone? I don't know if I could live with that."

"I have to think about that every day at my job," Dean found himself saying. "Even if you're sure of the rules, like always checking someone's blood pressure before giving them cardiac meds or something, it's still possible to make a mistake. And someone could get hurt. Even die. But if the only people doing the job are people who don't worry about that, that'd suck for everyone."

"I think what the others are trying to say, Castiel, is that we all need to reality-test the beliefs we were raised with," Missouri said. "That's not only true for Omegas. But in our society, it does feel like we Omegas have to do it a bit more than most."

Cas looked like he was thinking that over. Finally, he looked around the room, particularly at Hannah and Dean, and said, "Thank you."

There was a little more sharing and caring, as Dean liked to call it, but then it was time to go. He went over to Cas.

"So, gonna join us?"

"For a little while, anyway. Sue said it was fine if I came up to an hour later than usual."

"Definitely enough time for a cup of coffee, then." Dean slapped him on the shoulder. "Let's go."

#

Castiel had been concerned that if all seven of them went into this coffee shop, it would attract a lot of attention. Fortunately, it was just Dean, Castiel's cousin Hannah, and himself. The shop actually smelled an awful lot like Dean.

"Small group today, brother," said a tall man wearing an apron that had a notepad of some kind in it. He had a beard and a pencil behind his ear, and he had an unusual accent. "Got a newbie too! My name's Benny."

"Castiel."

This Benny didn't smell like either an Alpha or an Omega, so Castiel presumed he was a Beta. Or, he supposed, it might be possible that Benny was like him. Were there many Omegas like him? Did he even have a scent anymore?

"Pleasure to meet you, Castiel," Benny said. "I know how these two take their coffee. How about you?"

"Cream and sugar, please," Castiel replied.

"Anything with it?" Benny asked.

Castiel didn't have much money to spend. He felt like he was being extravagant just getting coffee at a restaurant.

"No, thank you," he replied.

"You sure?" Dean asked. "Benny's pies are to die for."

The board on the wall behind the counter said that today's special was a slice of apple pie for three dollars.

"Not today," Castiel said.

"I'll just have to do a better job tempting you next time," Benny said with a wink.

"Was that a flirtation?" Castiel asked once the man had gone.

"No, that's just how Benny is," Hannah said. "He confused me at first too."

"He's got a wife he adores. Sometimes she's in here working too," Dean said.

That was a relief. Castiel didn't think he could deal with flirtations just yet. It was strange enough having Omega friends that he could go to coffee with.

"So," Dean said, "how are you enjoying Omegas Anonymous?"

"What?"

"The group," Hannah said softly. "That's not the real name. Just something Dean and Garth started calling it."

"Like Alcoholics Anonymous," Dean said.

"I'm sorry, but I don't understand that reference."

"I didn't either," Hannah said. "It's a sort of group for people who drink too much alcohol and need help to stop."

"What are we doing too much that we're trying to stop?" Castiel asked.

"The analogy has always escaped me," Hannah said.

"It's that we're a bunch of Omegas talking about our lives and supporting each other," Dean said. "Plus the whole 'what's said in group stays in group' thing."

"Oh." Castiel nodded. "I suppose that makes sense. I guess you must know about that sort of thing from your job."

"Um, not exactly," Dean said. "I mean, I do screen people for alcohol and drug use, 'cause you have to do that for everybody, but I'm not the one who'd be referring them out. That'd be social work."

Their coffee arrived just then, which saved Castiel from having to say anything intelligent in response to that. It smelled absolutely delicious. He was surprised to see, though, that it was in a styrofoam cup with a lid.

"Sometimes one or more of us has to leave early," Dean said. "Everybody's schedule's different, you know? So if our coffee's already in a to-go cup, we can just take it with us."

"That is not a concept I'm familiar with," Castiel said. "It does sound convenient, though."

"Wait, to-go coffee is a new concept?" Dean asked.

"It is," Hannah said firmly. "I get where you're coming from, Castiel. You'll get the hang of things."

Castiel appreciated that. From what Hannah had said in group, her family had indeed been almost like his. No television. Minimal contact with the outside world. Arranged marriage. Abusive Alpha, in her case. At least Bartholomew had never physically hurt Castiel. No, just abandoned you and his newborn pup.

"Absolutely," Dean said. "We'll help show you the ropes."

"And on that note," Hannah said, pushing her chair back from the table, "I should get going. I'll just about get to work in time for my shift."

"Oh, goodbye then," Castiel said.

"See ya next week," Dean said.

And then it was just the two of them.

"So, when do you start your new job?" Dean asked.

"Next Monday," Castiel replied. "I'm still working out the logistics. My caseworker is helping with that though."

"If they're anything like my sister-in-law, I'm sure they'll get you set in plenty of time," Dean said.

"Oh, you're married?" Castiel wasn't sure why hearing that made his stomach churn his coffee uncomfortably.

"Me? No." Dean shook his head. "My brother is, though.”

Oh, right. That would also be a way to have a sibling-in-law. Castiel's stomach settled down.

"It sounds like your family is full of caregivers," Castiel said. "A social worker for a sister-in-law and a doctor yourself."

"What, me? No, I'm no doctor. I'm a nurse," Dean said. "Don't get me wrong, doctors can be great. But as much as they overload us, nurses still get more time with their patients than most doctors do."

Castiel thought about the brief visits the obstetrician had made to his home. At the time, he'd felt as though the doctor was in an awful rush. Perhaps he was, if he had many more patients to see.

"Why do they do that?" Castiel wondered. "Overload you, I mean."

"Not enough nurses to go around," Dean said. "Doctors either, really."

That wasn't something Castiel had ever considered, that there could be too few people in such important professions.

"It'd be better, I think, if they'd let more Omegas go to college and go into these kinds of jobs," Dean continued. "It took some doing for me to make it as a nurse, and I still ... well, I should save that crap for group. I don't think I've even met an Omega doctor."

"So the belief that Omegas should remain in the home, sheltered from the world, is potentially a bad thing for the world?" Reality-testing, Missouri had called it. Might as well practice now.

"I mean, I think it's a bad thing for Omegas, mostly," Dean said, "but yeah, now that you say it. Not so great for the world at all."

That was an awful lot to digest. Castiel was going to have pages and pages to say in his journal tonight.


	6. Chapter 6

By the time Dean had dropped off Cas and Claire, he was having a hard time containing the grin that insisted on taking over his face. It had been a great morning, really. Good group. Nice, small after-group coffee that turned into just him and Cas. Cas was kind of weird, definitely, but considering how it sounded like he'd been brought up, that was kind of expected. He was also funny as hell when he wasn't being stunningly deep.

Dean was in a world of trouble. Someone brought up that traditionally, was not going to want to date a fellow Omega. He'd seen Cas's reaction to the fact Dean, an Omega, had sired kids on two women. He hadn't asked their designations, but it wouldn't matter, really. Sure, Alpha women could carry pregnancies, but that was seen as such a loss of status that few did. And the real religious types tended to insist that Alpha women who wanted to be pregnant should only ever get with Alpha men. For an Omega man to impregnate someone of any gender was looked at as anything from "ho-hum so what" to "abomination, get the pitchforks.” How young they'd been at the time had weighted things more toward the pitchfork side of things.

No, Cas would never be interested in anything beyond friendship with him, but Dean was okay with that. Considering how spectacularly his relationships tended to end, that was probably for the best. Dean would be best off sticking to hookups at the Roadhouse. It just sucked that he hadn't been in the mood for that for about a month now. Ever since that incident at work, pretty much.

At first, it had been about Alistair. It always fucking came back to Alistair. Dean's knuckles whitened as he gripped the steering wheel tight, anchoring himself to the present. Out of all the tricks Missouri had taught him, for some reason, that one worked best. Ironic, considering this car hadn't always exactly been a "safe space." Ever since he'd taken it over, though, it had, and apparently that was all his subconscious cared about.  
His good mood was gone now. All Dean wanted at this point was to get home, crawl into bed, and get a good four hours sleep in before he had to get ready to go back to work. He hated when he had back-to-back twelves on Omegas Anonymous days, but he wasn't about to ask for a scheduling accommodation. Bad enough they had to accommodate his heats. Because while everything he'd told Cas was true, it was also true that the second being an Omega started to seem like more of a hassle than it was worth to an employer, the quicker they'd find a reason to let them go. Dean trusted his coworkers to have his back. They sure had the night of the incident, but he trusted the administrators, especially that douchebag CEO, Zacchariah Adler, about as far as he could throw them.

What he saw when he pulled up to Singer Salvage did not improve Dean's state of mind. The truck that was pulled up in front of the office door - Dean couldn't reasonably call the way it was sitting there "parked" - was all too familiar. Unless he wanted to give up on that sleep entirely, though, he was still going to have to park and go inside. It was tempting to take the back staircase up to his apartment. Bobby had made sure Dean had his own entrance from the get-go, so that was a thing he could do. But once his Dad saw the Impala, he'd know Dean had ditched him, and that would make next time even worse. Better to get this over with.

"There he is!" John said as Dean walked into Bobby's office. The grin on his face was disturbing. If John was trying this hard to look cheerful and friendly, he was obviously up to no good.

Bobby raised an eyebrow at Dean. Dean just shrugged. He wouldn't know how this was going to go until it went.

"Hi Dad," Dean said. "What brings you 'round today."

"What, I can't just come to see my boy?"

"I don't know. You haven't for the last two years, so maybe you have a little trouble with it."

"Don't you sass me," John snapped. Then the smile was back, a little smaller but a lot tighter around the edges. "Let's not dwell on the past."

There were so very many things Dean could say in response to that. None of them were going to improve this conversation or bring it to a close any faster, so he bit them back. Well, no, that wasn't true. He could tell John to just get the fuck out. Bobby would back him up, and then it would be over. But Dean needed to know what he was here for. If he was coming to bug Dean, and Sam hadn't given him a heads up, then Sam was second on the list. So best to shut whatever this was down now.

"Right," Dean said. "Let's focus on the present. Like I said, what brings you 'round today?"

"You always did like to get right to the point," John said.

This time, Dean didn't say anything. He'd learned with reluctant patients that sometimes, the best thing he could say was nothing at all. Eventually they'd speak up just to fill the silence and usually they'd give him exactly the information he needed to fix whatever was bothering them. It generally only took about twenty seconds for them to cave.

It took John thirty.

"I heard from your Alpha."

Everything around Dean came into sharper focus. He could hear someone's wrench scrape against the underside of a hood as they moved to shut it in the garage. He could feel the faint breeze of Bobby's ancient air conditioner, and he could tell it needed a filter change. John's clothes looked even more shabby than usual. And he'd managed to position himself between Dean and the door.

"Alistair is not my Alpha," Dean said, forcing his voice to stay level. He wouldn't be able to control the pheromones he was giving off. John clearly knew Dean was panicking. But it had been about two years, so he didn't know the Dean who'd been learning to manage his reactions. He obviously expected Dean to either crumple or cave in to whatever John had in mind. Neither of those things was going to happen.

"Funny," John said, "that's not what you said when ..."

"All right!" Bobby cut in. "I think I see what's going on here. You ran into Alistair, he's lost his latest punching bag and wants to recast Dean in the role. You're broke, as usual, and he offered you money. How'm I doing?"

"He is rightfully your Alpha," John said, completely ignoring Bobby. "Mating him was supposed to settle you down. Get you over this career-Omega nonsense, never mind knocking up another girl every few years."

That was not, of course, even remotely like how it had happened.

"So if he wants to pay me a dowry now," John continued, "like he should've back then, well, I can't see what's wrong with that."

"Okay, first of all," Dean said, "pretty sure that's not even how dowries work. Second of all, no."

Dean tugged down the collar of his t-shirt just far enough to show where the mating bite had been. The skin looked a little different from the rest of his shoulder, but as grafts went, it was pretty damn near perfect. He'd had to have his mating gland removed, too, to truly sever the bond, but Dean wasn't really planning on getting with another Alpha ... ever. And if he did find one he liked enough? Then they'd have to be a decent enough human being to be able to cope with that.

"You son of a --"

"You are not about to start talking shit about Mom."

That shut him up. John's jaw twitched. His hands twitched, too, like he wanted to take a swing at Dean for messing up whatever fucked up plan he'd had.

"Well, there you go," Bobby said. "Looks like you've wasted a trip from ... where was it you said you've been living?"

"Here and there."

"Right." Bobby drew the word out like it had five syllables. "So you wasted a trip from 'here and there' to kidnap your son and sell him back to that Alpha you threw him at in the first place."

That wasn't quite how it had gone either, but it was closer to the truth.

"Now, the only question I have," Bobby continued, "is whether you're gonna leave on your own, or I'm gonna have to call Jody. She's still the sheriff, just in case you'd forgotten."

For a second, Dean thought his dad might actually leave. The last thing John needed was to get his ass arrested, especially by Jody. He had a number of outstanding warrants, mostly for shit he'd done when he was drunk. But John had never done a damn thing that made sense, so barely a second after Dean caught the first whiff of Alpha rage, before his eyes had even started to redden, he reached out to grab Dean's jacket.

Dean grabbed his wrist, used it to spin John around until he was up against the counter, head dangerously close to the cash register - old school metal, not plastic, and Dean would use it if he needed to - with his arm twisted up behind his back.

Bobby hadn't moved. He just looked down at John like he was a bird that had just crapped on his counter.

"Are you done?" Bobby asked.

John pistoned his leg back at Dean, and if he hadn't learned better during his ER rotation, Dean might've caught it in the nuts. His thigh took the brunt of the force, but the kick did manage to break his hold and he stumbled back a few steps trying to regain his balance.

That's when he saw the syringe.

Dean should've known better than to underestimate John Winchester. When he wanted something, whether it was revenge on the "demon" he blamed for Dean's mother's death or apparently to sell his fucking son to an abusive Alpha, he wouldn't stop till he got it. Dean still had a few tricks up his sleeve, but he wasn't sure it'd be enough. John would not stop.

Another burst of Alpha rage filled the room.

Everything slowed to a series of flashes.

Bobby, eyes red with rage, claws out, pulling John back.

John, wolfed-out, lunging at Bobby.

The two of them, teeth and claws snapping and slashing.

John in the truck, peeling out of the parking lot.

Bobby, standing over Dean, spattered in blood but otherwise back to normal.

"Balls."

#

"I just froze," Dean said. "All that training just ... it just left. And he's gonna be back, I know it. Or he'll just tell Alistair where to find me. Might only get half of whatever the bastard's paying, but he might settle for that rather than tangle with my uncle again. Either way, I don't know what to do."

Castiel could hardly believe what he was hearing. Yes, he'd gathered that Dean had had some sort of bad experience with an Alpha. He was here, after all. Castiel hadn't realized Dean had actually been mated, had broken the bond, not just gotten a divorce, and that he was still in danger. It didn't seem possible that the self-assured guy Castiel had been getting to know over the past few weeks could be anything other than completely able to tackle the world. But, like the rest of them, he was here for a reason.

"That really sucks, Dean," Garth said.

"Have you talked to that lawyer brother of yours?" Amelia asked.

"Yeah," Dean said. "He's got restraining orders out on both of them, but those aren't worth much until they actually show up and violate them."

Castiel wasn't sure what a restraining order was, but it didn't sound like it was particularly useful.

"What do you want to do, Dean?" Missouri asked.

Some of the tension went out of Dean's shoulders, and Castiel realized that was exactly what he'd needed to hear. Not just validation that it sucked. Not ideas for how to fix things. Just confirmation that what he wanted mattered. Castiel could relate to that.

"I don't know," Dean admitted. "Run? He'd just find me, and I'd have to leave everyone I care about behind."

"Have you thought about changing your designation?" Sarah asked. "The restraining order would still have to be broken before it did any real good, but then they could get put away longer, if that's what you want."

"I'm not changing who I am because our laws suck," Dean snapped.

Sarah sat back in her chair, eyes wide.

"Sorry, not your fault." Dean scrubbed a hand through his hair. "My brother's helping me brainstorm what to do on the legal side beyond the restraining orders. I just need to kind of process this, you know?"

"I get that." This, surprisingly, came from Gabriel. "So, what do you need to process?"

Missouri gave their resident jokester an approving nod before turning her attention back to Dean. She didn't say anything though.

"When the incident happened at work," Dean said, "it brought up all that shit Alistair had me believing. That everything that goes wrong is my fault, y'know? The second I scented that Alpha's rage, I was sure I'd fucked something up that had hurt a patient, right at the start of the panic spiral."

That sounded truly horrible. From what Castiel knew of him, Dean took great pride in his work. Granted, he'd only really explained that he was a nurse last week, but still. He'd all but glowed talking about how much he enjoyed taking care of patients. He'd even talked a bit about the specific unit he worked on, which had left Castiel wistfully wishing he'd had Dean as a nurse. His nurses had been fine, of course, even if Victor had seemed a bit distracted that first night. Anyone would be, though, with the scene Bartholomew had made.

The penny dropped and Castiel stared at Dean, barely managing to keep his jaw from dropping. No. That couldn't be the "incident" he'd talked about that first time Castiel had come here, could it? The timing was about right.

"I held my own okay with my dad, or at least, I thought I did," Dean continued, "right up until I saw the syringe in his hand. I knew that he'd played me. He'd anticipated every move I'd make and penned me in so I couldn't even run, and it was my own fault. For all that I've learned since he took off and left me with Alistair, I hadn't managed to think ahead of him."

"So that's what your panic told you," Missouri said. "What do _you_ have to say about it?"

"I don't know." Dean sighed. "My brother thinks I should join a dojo of some kind. Learn a completely different style of fighting. He's not wrong. That would help me not fall into that trap."

"But it would feel like it came from someone else," Hannah said softly. "That's what you're saying, right?"

"Yeah." Dean crossed his arms tightly over his chest. "That doesn't mean I shouldn't try it. But I don't think it's the whole answer. Neither are the affirmations, obviously. Once I go from hypervigilant to panicked, I can't think about affirmations."

"No, that wouldn't be the time for them. Even when you shift into hypervigilance, your brain is focused on survival. But do they help at all?" Missouri asked.

"After the fact, yeah," Dean said. He clenched his hands and relaxed them as he spoke. "And maybe someday, when I've been using them for decades, they'll short-circuit that shit in the moment. But for right now, I need something I can grab onto right then. Once my vision goes all sharp, if I get that kind of warning, or once the panic starts if not."

That gave Castiel an idea. He'd need to ask Sarah for help getting supplies. Maybe it would be crossing some kind of line, but Missouri had never said that members of the group couldn't give each other things any more than she'd said they couldn't give each other rides. He resisted the urge to ask Dean what sort of affirmations he used. What he had in mind wouldn't work for a full sentence anyway. A single word, though, he could do.

"There's an exercise I'd like you to try, if you remember it, the next time you find yourself getting into that hypervigilant state, Dean," Missouri said. "This goes for everyone, really. It can be really useful."

"What is it?" Hannah asked.

"You lean into it a little, but in a way that, if you make a habit of it, can help keep you from going over that line into panic. Find five things in your surroundings you can see, four that you can hear, three that you can touch, two that you can smell, and one that you can taste."

"That's it?" Dean asked.

"It's the simplest things that work the best," Missouri said. "Try it now."

The rest of them offered various suggestions of things they could see and hear and smell. Castiel tuned them out, though. He was already listing and discarding the words he could use and how he could use them. He'd already felt like he owed Dean for the rides home, even though Dean didn't seem to mind giving them. Insisted, even. But now, knowing that his ex-mate had set Dean up to be more vulnerable, it felt even more important that Castiel do something to help him in return.


	7. Chapter 7

It was a relief to slink over to Benny's for coffee. Looked like almost nobody else was going to make it, though. Sarah had to get to work, as did Amelia, Garth, and Hannah. Gabriel and Castiel were the only ones who joined him, and it was soon clear Gabriel wasn't staying.

"I've just got the one pie left," Benny said. "You're not my only customer, Gabriel. At least one of those slices of cherry pie has Dean's name on it, and I've got a couple of regulars who'll want some later. You can have one slice to go. One."

"Fine." Gabriel sighed loudly like the drama queen that he was.

"You could learn to bake them yourself," Dean pointed out.

"I don't want to _make_ pastries," Gabriel said. "Where's the fun in that?"

"You'd have them to eat afterward?" Castiel suggested. "Assuming you didn't just gobble down the entire bag of sugar before you got started."

"See? Somebody gets me!"

Dean just shook his head. He was grateful that Benny had his back, anyway. It'd been a rough week. He deserved a piece of cherry pie.

"I'm not sure how stating an obvious fact based on observing your behavior qualifies as 'getting you,'" Castiel said, air quotes and all.

"Of course you're not." Gabriel laughed, paid for his to-go order, and waved goodbye with the hand that wasn't cradled protectively around the little styrofoam box.

Benny brought over their coffees and two slices of pie.

"Oh, I wasn't going to ..." Cas started.

"First one's on the house," Benny said with a wink. "Gotta get you hooked."

"Hey," Dean said, "how come I didn't get my first one on the house?"

"Because I didn't need to get you hooked, sugar."

Benny had him there. Dean took a bite of the pie, and it was as good as always. Apple was still his favorite, but cherry was a close second. Cas took a bite of his and looked thoughtful.

"So, what do you think?" Benny asked.

"I can see why this is a favorite," Cas replied. "It's very good, thank you."

He did not, Dean noticed, say he'd be ordering some next time, but then again, the guy was only just starting his first ever job. He was probably counting his pennies pretty closely, especially with a new pup.

They ate in companionable silence. Once the pie was gone and they were sipping at their coffee, though, Cas spoke up.

"I'm not sure if it's crossing any lines or an inappropriate question to ask," he said, "but if it's not, I'd be curious to learn more about how you took care of this."

Cas rested his hand against the spot where his neck and shoulder met.

Ah. That.

"I dunno what most people would think," Dean admitted. "To me, it's just a medical question, though, so you're fine. There's a surgical procedure. It's got some hoops to jump through, like most things, but so long as you're legally divorced, it's just paperwork. Well, and it'll dampen your scent down, but in my book that's a feature, not a bug."

Cas nodded, even though he wasn't sure what bugs had to do with it, then asked, "Is it the sort of thing insurance covers?"

"Good point. Um, I'm not sure about the kind of insurance your job will give you, once it kicks in. Might be a good idea to look into it now, if it's something you want. Medicaid probably has a lower copay than job insurance."

"Oh, that's ... well, I suppose they figure if you need it, you don't have as much money to pay the copay." Cas shrugged. "So many things to learn."

"You will. You're doing great already. Hey, I'm glad you were able to get Wednesday mornings off from this new job."

"It helps that it turns out the gallery owner is Sarah's father," Cas said. "That was not planned. I even worried whether I should take it, once I figured that out. Sarah said it didn't matter, though."

"It might be one of the biggest cities in Kansas," Dean said, "but Lawrence can be a pretty small world. Shit like that's bound to happen."

It looked like Cas was about to say something else to that, but changed his mind. Or possibly he had gas. Dean was still learning how to read the guy.

"I suppose you're right," he said at last. "The work is more interesting than I had expected. Yes, it's mostly just putting things in alphabetical order, but it's all about keeping track of the different artists that have displayed their work. I got a peek inside the gallery itself when Mr. Blake was showing me around on Monday, but it was empty. I think I'd like to see it when it isn't. See what sorts of things these artists make."

"That would be cool," Dean agreed. He didn't really know much about art, but he liked looking at pretty things. Like the guy sitting across from him, which he totally shouldn't be thinking. It was amazing the way Cas's eyes lit up talking about the place, though. Not quite as bright as when he got talking about Claire, but still almost blinding. Dean couldn't help wondering what else could get him to look like that, as he finished the dregs of his coffee and admitted to himself that he was well and truly, completely and thoroughly, screwed.

#

It had taken Castiel a while to decide what sort of thing to make for Dean. He obviously did wear jewelry, though the amulet around his neck might be more of a spiritual thing than an adornment. That was fine because this would be too.

The easiest thing, of course, would be to just cross-stitch the word into some fabric, but that wouldn't be very durable or practical at all. It might be possible to do something in metal, but even if Castiel knew how to do that, he was sure it would cost far more to get the equipment than he would be able to afford. As it was, he felt torn over spending any of his first paycheck on anything other than Claire. Their rent, fortunately, was covered for another month, and so was their food. And, as it turned out, Sarah had been very helpful in pointing Castiel to a relatively inexpensive source for what he wanted.

Castiel still wasn't sure entirely what he believed. If God hadn't created him to be hidden away in the home raising pups, if requiring all Omegas to do so was depriving the world of people to join essential professions, then was any of what he had learned true? He let his hand fall to his side, brushing the lettering he had placed there with the first pen he'd gotten his hands on after Bartholomew had thrown his others away. It matched the lettering he'd placed under the mattress in Claire's bassinet and inside the lining of her carrier seat. He hadn't been able to bring himself to mark her skin. As for himself, he refreshed the writing every time he bathed. He wasn't sure if he truly believed the blessing would protect them or if it was just superstition at this point, but he felt better for having it there.

The trick was going to be doing this without waking Claire. Once she was sound asleep, though, he pulled out his supplies, laid out the leather and sketched out the word he wanted. At least it was shorter in Enochian. Once he was satisfied with the lettering, he took out the awl and got to work.  
It might not be art, exactly, but Castiel had taken to leatherworking when he was younger. Sure, he'd learned the needle crafts that he was supposed to, but this was different. With this he got to literally dig into what he was doing, leave his mark on it instead of being something someone else would leave a mark on. His neck itched as he thought it. He ignored it. His mother had decided that since it was something he could use to decorate an Alpha's belt or something, it was an acceptable hobby. Barely. But she had provided him with supplies every so often, and when the leather ran out, well, Castiel had his own belts to practice on, didn't he?

Bartholomew had been another story. He'd had no patience for Castiel's "silliness." So it had been awhile since he'd done this. His hands, however, seemed to be getting acquainted with this new awl and leather very nicely.


	8. Chapter 8

This week, it was Gabriel's turn to take the floor. Dean wasn't sure how they managed to stagger their breakdowns, but somehow, they mostly did.   
Either that or once somebody started talking about serious shit, everybody else collectively decided their shit could wait. They were a good group, so Dean could believe that too. He'd surely done that a time or three.

"I just don't get why my coworkers keep trying to drag me into their drama," Gabe ranted. "If I wanted to deal with that shit, I'd've stayed with my family."

Dean very carefully took a sip of the coffee he'd grabbed from Missouri's counter. It wasn't anywhere near as good as Benny's, but it was keeping him from pointing out that Gabe was an absolute master of drama, as he was currently demonstrating, which might have something to do with why his coworkers thought he belonged in theirs. That was exactly the sort of completely unhelpful thing he might have said two years ago, but he'd learned better. Didn't mean he couldn't think it though.

"Are you looking for suggestions, or just venting?" Castiel asked.

Dean stole a look at the guy. Damn, he was learning the ropes fast.

"Venting," Gabe said. "Definitely venting. Not that I'd turn down any suggestions on how to turn them into Punch and Judy puppets or something."

"I don't imagine that would be a viable solution."

Ah, there was the dorky guy that Dean was totally not falling head over heels for. Nope, not at all. Shit like that didn't make him fall even farther. Not even a little bit.

"It might not be a solution, per se," Missouri said. "Do you think it might feel cathartic to draw them that way? Not, I should be clear, at work or any place that the people involved could ever see it."

"If I could draw anything better than stick figures, sure," Gabe said. He shrugged. "It is kind of entertaining to imagine them that way once they get going, though."

Eventually, Missouri got around to prompting him to share a bit. Dean had known that would be coming. You couldn't share shit like he did last week and then just let it drop. That'd leave everybody worrying about him.

"Haven't made any progress on the legal side," he said. "My brother's still trying to dig up some precedents or whatever."

"But what about you?" Missouri pressed.

Dean took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"There've been a few nightmares. Had one really bad flashback as I was getting in the shower the other day. Managed to catch myself before I fell or anything, though, so that's an improvement. And I, uh, signed up for a six week, kind of a demo, class at this place that has a couple of different teachers. So I can, um, see if I want to learn Taekwondo or Aikido or whatever."

"That's wonderful, Dean," Cas said. His eyes had that bright light in them again.

Had Dean put that there? Could he do it again? And again and again? No, stop.

"Yes, that is," Missouri said. "Would you like to talk about what changed your mind?"

"It still feels like it wouldn't really be me standing up to him," Dean said, "but I decided that's a dumb reason not to learn ways of protecting myself that he won't know. Or Alistair either."

"It's an understandable reason," Missouri said gently, "but not, I suspect, a very practical one."

That led to a round of people talking about things they'd thought about trying and why they did or didn't decide to go ahead with them. Dean listened as best he could and nodded at what he hoped were the appropriate places. What he was really thinking about, though, was what he could do to get Cas to look at him like that again.

#

Castiel was having a hard time keeping his hand out of his pocket. Too many of the group had come along for coffee today. Sarah, Amelia, Garth, and Gabriel. He was probably going to have to wait until they got in the car to give Dean his gift. Would he even be able to do it then? What if it was inappropriate? What if it made Dean never want to talk to him again?

Sarah and Amelia were talking about some sort of painting that involved dogs playing poker. Castiel wasn't sure what that meant. Surely they couldn't be talking about the card game? And what, exactly, was a pastiche? Fortunately, Gabriel saved him from having to ask that question, at least.

"It means it's sort of a copy, but with some differences," Sarah said. "I mean, obviously, there would be differences from the original. No two artists would paint the same thing in quite the same way. Even forgers, no matter how good they are, can't quite do it. But this would be deliberate differences. You should come to the show to see what I mean."

"Oh, hawking tickets to the group? I didn't know you had it in you. I'm proud of you," Gabriel said.

"There's no entrance fee," Sarah said with a roll of her eyes. "We don't charge you to come in. Only if you want to leave with a piece of the art on display."

"Spoilsport."

She'd been working feverishly getting all of the documents in order for the showing, Castiel knew. He'd had to file it all, so he was very clear on exactly how much paperwork that involved. When she'd needed to pull things back out, though, Sarah had been very grateful that he'd kept up with her pace. Apparently his predecessor hadn't been quite so quick.

"Speaking of," Sarah said, "I should probably get going. I've got a few things to pick up before I go in for the afternoon. It's two days till the opening, but still."

"Should I come with you to help?" Castiel asked.

"No, that's not part of the job," she said. She darted her eyes over to Dean and then back to Cas. "You just come in for one o'clock like usual."

Amelia and Gabriel left shortly after as well.

It was only eleven thirty, and now Castiel didn't need to pick up Claire until he'd finished his work at the art gallery, so he actually had plenty of time. If Dean got upset, it wouldn't matter if he had to walk. There wasn't really a reason to wait any longer.

"Everything okay with Claire?" Dean asked.

"What?" It took Castiel a second to realize what Dean had asked. "Oh, yes, she's doing very well. Slept most of the night last night, in fact. Why do you ask?"

"You keep putting your hand in your pocket, like you want to pull out your phone and check it or something," Dean said. "You can if you need to, you know. I was just guessing maybe she had a little cold or something."

"No, she's managed not to catch any yet," Castiel said. "Though I imagine that now she's in day care that will change, as she's around other children. I understand they are very good at sharing that sort of thing."

"That they are," Dean agreed. "So if it's not that, what is it?"

Castiel took a deep breath as Missouri had taught him to do and let it out slowly. He pulled Dean's gift out of his pocket and kept it in his fist for a moment.

"I'm not sure if this is okay," he said. "But I felt like it would've been less okay to give it to you at group."

"All right." Dean looked at Castiel's fist warily.

"It's just ... you said you wished you had something to grab onto when ... well, you know." Actually quoting him outside of group was definitely over the line, but Castiel hoped that stopping short of saying anything about when Dean would want something to hold onto would help. "Anyway, here."  
He grabbed Dean's free hand, flipped it over, and dropped the tooled leather key fob into it.

Dean looked it over, puzzled.

"It's nice, Cas. Um, thanks." He squinted at it. "Are those letters?"

"Not English ones," Castiel said. "They're Enochian. It's the language of the angels."

"You believe in angels, Cas?" Dean gave a soft smile that Castiel couldn't quite decipher, but at least he didn't burst out laughing.

"I'm not sure anymore. But it's how I was taught to make blessings for things." Cas shrugged.

"So this is a blessing? That sounds kind of cool."

"In a way," Castiel said. "To write out a full blessing would take much more space, or else much finer tools than I'd be able to get my hands on. But it has the intent of one. The word I chose ... well, that's based on what you said too."

Dean studied the key fob a bit longer. "Are you going to tell me what the word is? Or would that break the blessing?"

"What? Oh, no." Castiel shifted in his seat a bit. "It means 'righteous one.'"

Dean's eyes widened.

Castiel wasn't sure what to say next, so he said nothing. He just watched as Dean raised his eyebrows, looked more closely at the piece of tooled leather, and then smiled just a little bit again.

"I like that," he said at last. "I mean, that's not a word I'd choose for myself, but it sounds like that's kind of the point."

"Exactly." Castiel nodded.

"And I like that it's what you thought of. And that you took the time to make something like this for me. I didn't even realize you made stuff like this." Dean chewed thoughtfully at his lower lip. "How do you even do something like this? Do you need stencils?"

"For something really elaborate, you can make stencils," Castiel said. "I've never tried that, though. I just work freehand."

Dean's eyes widened again.

"Damn. You should show Sarah some of your work," Dean said. "You might even be able to show it."

"I can't imagine something like this would be the sort of thing they show," Castiel said. "Art galleries are for paintings and sculptures. I mean, that's what everything I've been typing up and filing away has been."

"You should check out the show they're putting up," Dean said. "Maybe even go to the opening on Friday. You might be surprised."

Castiel's stomach jumped a little bit. He wondered if the cherry pie had maybe been too rich.

"I may ask Sarah if I can look, once she has it set up," Castiel said. "But I wouldn't be able to attend the opening. It's not about transportation. The gallery is walking distance from my apartment. I have to pick up Claire from the daycare far too early for that."

"What if I could find you a babysitter?" Dean asked. "Someone who wouldn't charge?"

"Are you offering?" Castiel asked. "Because I'm not sure I'd be okay with a stranger minding her. It's hard enough getting used to the idea of the teachers at the daycare minding her."

"I could," Dean said. "I mean, I was thinking of my sister-in-law. She's good with kids, and I know she wouldn't mind."

"I don't know." Castiel chewed his lip. He didn't like the idea of taking charity, though that was pretty hypocritical considering he'd been depending on it for the last few weeks. Especially since he was pretty sure it was his ex-Alpha's rage that had set Dean off, causing the "incident" he'd brought up in group. Giving Dean the key fob was supposed to help even that up, but this would put him in debt again.

"Let me see if my sister-in-law is free," Dean said. "Maybe I can introduce you two over Skype or something."

"I don't have a computer yet," Castiel admitted. "I have a phone, but I'm not sure if it can do that."

"Can I see?" Dean asked.

Castiel shrugged and handed his phone over, not entirely clear on when he had agreed to try to meet Dean's sister-in-law, or consider having her babysit while he went to the gallery opening that he was very sure he hadn't agreed to go to. But apparently he had, if it was important to find out if his phone would allow a Skype introduction. Replaying the conversation in his head, though, he realized that he'd never said he didn't want to. Just named obstacles. Perhaps he was interested in this idea after all. He did like the idea of attending with Dean. That would be much less intimidating than going on his own. He'd seen the prices that some of the works the gallery handled had sold for. He'd be very much out of his league.

Dean tapped at the screen, swiped his finger around a few times, and clearly understood Castiel's phone better than he did. He handed it back with a wry look.

"It could do Skype, but it looks like it'd break your plan. Let me ask her anyway, and if she says yes, I'll find a way to introduce you two before Friday night."

"That's just under two days," Castiel pointed out.

"I'm aware," Dean said.

"Fine, give it your best shot." Castiel shook his head.

"But if it doesn't work out," Dean said, "I'll babysit. You should get to experience what the gallery is like. I haven't been to one in a long time. Lisa was the one who was more into that kind of thing. They're cool events, though, and you're helping to make it happen. You should see it."

"All right, all right." Castiel was curious, after all. Funny how he was now hoping that Dean's sister-in-law would be available, even though he didn't know her. But he was more interested in going to this event with Dean than alone.


	9. Chapter 9

Dean didn't think he'd ever seen Eileen look so shifty. No, that wasn't true. There was that one time, back when she and Sam were first dating and Sam was still living in the apartment over Bobby's with Dean.

_Dean had been excited to wake up to the smell of breakfast being cooked in the kitchen. It wasn't that Sam didn't know how to cook, but he did usually leave it to Dean. It wasn't an Omega thing. Just a little-brother-got-used-to-big-brother-doing-stuff thing. When he'd reached the kitchen, he'd been surprised to see that Eileen was there, too. He gave his brother an internal high five. Then he saw what they were cooking._

_"Are you two hungover?" he asked._

_"We maybe got a little carried away with the margaritas," Eileen has replied, pinching her fingers together._

That was the last time he'd seen her looking quite that shifty, though. Sam, on the other hand? He was more used to this from Sam.

"What are you two up to?" he asked his brother.

"We're not up to anything, Dean. We just have plans for Friday night."

"Sam got us reservations at that new restaurant," Eileen said.

They weren't exactly social butterflies. It wasn't their anniversary or either of their birthdays. Since when would they go someplace that needed a reservation on a random Friday night? But while he could imagine that Sam might be just giving him a hard time, he didn't think that was Eileen's style.

"Fine," he said. "I'll just babysit Cas's pup myself, and he'll have to go to this gallery opening alone. I was really looking forward to introducing you, though. Did I mention he's learning ASL? He said something about not wanting to just do the baby sign thing when she could grow up bilingual."

"That's great," Eileen said.

She looked entirely too innocent.

Oh.

_Oh!_

"You're Cas's caseworker," Dean said. "And, Sammy, you must be the lawyer he said he'd talked to."

"I can neither confirm nor deny," Eileen said. "You know how HIPAA works, Dean."

Sam just held up his hands. Dean guessed he was kind of stuck at that. If he pled attorney-client privilege, he'd be admitting Cas was his client.

"No, I get it," Dean said. "It'd be the same if he'd been my patient. Good thing Missouri doesn't have any rules about hanging out with each other outside of group."

"It'd be a pretty shitty support group if she did," Sam said.

"It's not that kind of ... you know what, never mind." Dean scrubbed his hand down his face.

"You like him," Eileen said. She gave him a soft smile. "Is Jo off? She might not be your sister-in-law, but she is someone you can vouch for who likes babies."

"That could work." Dean wasn't sure it'd be an easy sell, but it was worth a shot. And if it didn't work, well, there were worse things than babysitting so his friend (he emphasized the word friend to himself) could go to an event he was obviously interested in. Maybe the guy would get the confidence to show his own work someday. If he could do work like that leather keyring, freehand no less, yeah. He was talented. Helping him get exposed to that world would be worth it, even if he didn't get to go with him.

"You didn't even deny it," Sam said, awe in his voice. "You've got it bad."

"Shut up, bitch," Dean snapped.

"Make me, jerk," Sam replied. "Go on, get Jo to babysit so you can go on your date."

"It's not a date!"

That sounded about as believable as a completely unbelievable thing, Dean thought as he slinked out of Sam and Eileen's house and headed home.

#

Castiel wasn't sure about this at all. He was interested to see what the show opening at the gallery would be like. He'd seen the exhibit setup, when he'd mentioned his interest to Sarah, but she agreed with Dean that coming to the opening would be a very different experience. She had also suggested he either wear his work clothes or, if he had anything dressier (which he didn't) to go with that. So, suit and trench coat it was, then.

He had just barely gotten used to the idea of Dean's sister-in-law watching Claire, though he'd not yet met her. He was a bit more uneasy about this friend of his, Jo, even if she was both a nurse and "like a sister to him." She was probably wonderful. He trusted Dean's judgment more than he probably should after such a short time. But she was still one more person that he didn't know that he'd be handing Claire over to, and he'd only just gotten her back from the daycare a couple of hours ago.

On the bright side, Claire didn't seem to mind. According to the books, she would likely be more fussy about strangers when she was a bit older. For now, though, so long as they kept her warm, dry, and fed, she was happy enough.

Once Dean and his "like a sister" showed up, though, Castiel found his concerns melting away. Jo was a very pleasant woman, and she immediately took to Claire, making faces and baby talk noises at her.

"I hardly ever get to see them when they're more than a day old," she said. "It's a treat to spend time with a pup who's a bit older."

"There are three bottles of expressed milk in the refrigerator," he said. "That should be enough until we get back."

"Unless you're planning to stay all night," she agreed. "Just point me to ... oh, never mind. I see the changing table setup. I think we're good."

"Here's my number." Castiel handed her a sheet of paper containing not only that but also as much information as he could think to include. It was mostly everything the daycare had asked for, really, with the addition of which cabinet held the baby Tylenol, just in case she got a fever. She hadn't yet, but after a week around so many other pups, he figured he couldn't be too careful.

"I think we should be good," Jo said. "Go! Have a great time."

Dean, who had been watching quietly through all this with that soft smile he sometimes got, offered his elbow as Castiel headed toward the door to go. Castiel briefly wondered if that smile had been due to Jo. Before he could even react to that thought, he remembered that Dean had described her like a sister. So even if it had, it was nothing for him to be concerned with. Not that he should be concerned otherwise.

Castiel really didn't know what to make of the way he felt around Dean Winchester. The man was an Omega, like him. But this didn't feel like friendship, at least, not as Castiel understood it. Granted, Dean was the only person (other than Eileen) that Castiel had gotten to know relatively well since he'd been on his own. Prior to that, he'd always been sheltered, first in his family's home and then in Bartholomew's. He'd had friends when he was younger, true. There had been Alfie and Hael and Balthazar at their small school for Omegas, and his cousins, including Hannah, at larger family gatherings. Castiel didn't remember ever feeling so confused around any of them.

Of course, none of them had eyes that were quite that shade of green. Castiel wasn't sure eye color in and of itself was a trait that should change how one reacted to a friend, but Dean's eyes seemed to figure into most of his more confusing responses to the man. And now he was behaving as if he were an Alpha and they were on a date, like in one of the books he'd been reading.

Confusing.

So was the walk to the gallery. It had made perfect sense to leave Dean's car with Joanna. If there were an emergency of some kind, the baby seat was set up in the back. Walking at night, though, did not seem as enjoyable as Castiel had envisioned. They were still well east of Mass Street. That would be the area filled with lights and people and activity. Castiel's neighborhood was, to say the least, not particularly well-off, and while the Blakes' gallery was part of an effort to improve the area, that last alley next to some diner they'd passed had been a bit ominous. Then again, that might have just been the cat that had yowled as they walked by, clattering to the ground with the lid of the trash can it had been perched upon. It seemed the startlement had been mutual.

When they arrived at the gallery, it was brightly lit with the fairy lights Sarah had been fussing with eariler. Apparently, she'd had to test each of them to be sure the bulbs worked. The effect on the main windows as they approached was brilliant, though. The lights inside the gallery were less fanciful, but still artfully and carefully placed to ensure each piece of artwork was shown to its best possible effect.

Sarah wasn't anywhere to be seen, but there was a slender beta walking amongst the patrons wearing an apron and carrying a tray with drinks. Castiel took one, since it seemed that was expected. It was rather sweet and felt warm going down.

"I'm not usually much of a wine drinker," Dean said, "but this is pretty good."

"This is wine?" Yet another thing Castiel had grown up believing was evil.

"Mm-hm."

Castiel had the feeling he'd be hearing more about the relative benefits of wine versus other alcoholic beverages later.

"Not the main attraction, though," Dean said. "Partly it's to add ambiance, I think. Probably partly to make people more likely to part with their money after they've had a couple."

So it did really impair judgment then. Good to know. Castiel decided he'd stick to this one glass, since apparently this effect only happened after "a couple" of glasses.

The artwork was very different than Castiel might have expected. Few of the paintings looked quite like their titles implied.

"I don't see how that's a forest fire," he said after he and Dean had been looking at one of them for a couple of minutes. "But I can sort of feel it. I don't understand how that works."

"I think that's the point," Dean said. "I don't really get it, either. In fact, you seem to get it better than I do. But it's something like that. It's about evoking a feeling rather than showing the exact image.”

Oh.

"Well, well, well, what have we here?" came an all-too-familiar voice from behind Castiel. "A couple of Omegas attempting to understand the arts. How quaint."

Dean just rolled his eyes. Castiel, though, felt his blood run cold. Not with fear, though, as he might have expected, but with fury. He turned to face his ex-mate.

The look of horror on Bartholomew's face was worth anything else he might say. It was obvious that he could never have imagined bumping into Castiel here, or anywhere for that matter. Omegas were to be neither seen nor heard outside the home, after all, for traditionalists like his ex-mate. And Omegas like Castiel, ruined Omegas, were never to be acknowledged. Castiel's scent must have shifted, which did make a sort of sense. Otherwise, Bartholomew should have known he was here from the moment they were in the same room.

"It was my understanding," Castiel said evenly, "that your opinion of the arts was that they are a pretentious waste of time and resources. Or is that reserved for art created by Omegas?"

"Is this true?" asked the taller guy standing next to Bartholomew. He had an accent, though Castiel had no idea from where. He was also an Alpha. "You were telling me this afternoon just how excited you were to come tonight. Was any of that true?"

"It's as he says. Art is one thing, but the attempts made at it by Omegas are worthless."

"Then I shouldn't imagine you'd enjoy this show, considering the artist is an Omega." The guy lifted an eyebrow at Bartholomew. "And considering that I intend for this exact painting to be in our front lobby, I imagine you would find it very uncomfortable working for our firm. Alas, I believe this post-interview interview has ended, and not in your favor."

Bartholomew now looked as though he was going to be violently ill. Castiel watched with interest as his face contorted through a number of emotions before finally settling on self-righteous.

"Yes, I suppose I would. Better to find that out now than later." Bartholomew turned on his heel and stormed out of the gallery.

"I suppose now I should figure out what this painting is being sold for," the other man said, looking at it thoughtfully.

"Was that ...?" Dean left the question hanging.

"Yes," Castiel said. "I suppose I should thank you mister ..."

"Crowley," the other man replied. "I can't imagine why you should thank me. I rather think you've saved me a good bit of money attempting to train someone I'd have had to fire eventually. If anything, I should be thanking you. Here." He pulled out a business card and handed it to Castiel. "Let me know if there's ever a favor you need."

The card identified Mr. Crowley as one of the partners in Crowley and MacLeod, attorneys at law.

"Thank you," Castiel said. "Though I do already have a lawyer."

"I didn't realize your ex-mate was a lawyer," Dean said.

"He's not," Castiel said.

"No, he was interviewing to be my new executive assistant," Mr. Crowley said. "If you'll excuse me, I should really be finding the gallery owner."

"Hang onto that," Dean said after the man had wandered off. "I'm pretty sure Sammy'd be the first one to tell you that having Crowley and MacLeod owe you a favor is a damn rare thing."

Castiel tucked the card away in the pocket of his suit jacket. He wasn't sure he trusted the man, but the way he'd just handled Bartholomew - not to mention the reason he'd done it - was a point in his favor.

"I didn't realize the artist was an Omega," Castiel said after a minute. "Do you think that's true, or do you think that's just something Mr. Crowley said to see Bartholomew's reaction?"

"I don't know," Dean said. "Does it matter?"

Castiel rather thought it did. He'd resisted Dean's encouragement to do more leather tooling and show it to Sarah, partly because he just didn't think it was really art and partly because he couldn't imagine an Omega being allowed to show and sell their work. But if that was a thing that happened? Then maybe he could imagine it after all.

"Let's find Sarah and ask her," Castiel said.


	10. Chapter 10

The evening had gone well, Dean thought, even with Cas's douchebag ex showing up. Then again, watching a guy like that get his ass served up to him on a silver platter might have been the highlight of Dean's evening. Not your typical first date, but then, this wasn't a date. It couldn't be.

It had accomplished one of the main things Dean had hoped for, anyway. Sarah had confirmed that the artist who'd done tonight's mixed-media showing was, indeed, an Omega. She'd also been excited to hear that Cas did leather work, and had been impressed with the key ring. Dean had been relieved when she'd given it back though.

Once that was done, they said their good nights to her and headed back out into the night. Dean had left Baby at Cas' apartment. He'd known that the parking at the gallery would be terrible, and anyway, Jo might need the car if Claire got sick or something, not that the pup showed any signs of it. Nobody knew better than a perinatal nurse how quickly pups could spiral. Bad train of thought. Besides, who didn't like a romantic evening walk? Not that this was romantic.

He was doomed.

Most of Dean's partners before now had been Betas, with Alistair the one Alpha. He didn't have anything against dating another Omega. It just hadn't ever happened. Cas, on the other hand, had obviously been brought up in a really strict and traditional family. Omegas could only ever be mated to Alphas, or, at the very least, male Betas, since their entire reason for existing was to be impregnated as often as possible, which could technically happen with another Omega, but then that Omega wasn't serving their purpose.

Which was all bullshit, of course, but it still meant Cas would never see him as a potential partner. Besides, he'd only gotten away from that asshole recently. It'd taken two years after Alistair for Dean to even think about dating anyone else. Not that this Bartholomew guy seemed to have been the same flavor of abusive as Alistair. At least, Dean hoped not, both because he would never want Cas to have experienced anything like what Dean had and because if he had, then Dean would have to hunt that guy down and kill him.

Dean's fingers twitched as he forced himself not to reach for Cas's handy. Instead, he shoved his own hands into the pockets of his jacket. It was still early in the summer, and while it wasn't quite chilly out, the air was definitely cool.

"So, what'd you think?" he asked. "Ready to show Sarah some more of your work?"

"Not exactly," Cas replied. "It does seem more attainable now, but I think I'd like to improve my work a bit first."

Dean found the piece of leather attached to his keys in his pocket. He rubbed it between his thumb and forefinger. As far as he was concerned, Cas was good enough now. The fancy lettering was one thing, but the intricate geometric edging he'd put on it was even more amazing, as far as Dean was concerned.

It was significantly darker than it had been when they'd walked to the gallery, of course, but the street lights did their job for the most part. At least, they did on the road that held the gallery. When they reached the road that connected to Cas's street, the street lights were spaced out farther. They still cast enough light to walk by, but it was enough to make Dean a little twitchy. He wished he'd brought Baby after all. Yes, parking near the gallery had been tight, but not so bad he couldn't have found a spot.

Dean shoved that out of his mind and focused on how he was going to talk Cas into stopping in the Roadhouse for a bite on the way back. Jo had made it very clear she was happy to babysit until at least midnight, but, "You'd best be back before dawn, Winchester. I know where you live, and I will barge in!"

She was being ridiculous.

That did mean, though, that stopping for a late dinner wasn't out of the question. The hors d'oeuvres had been tasty, but even picking at most of the trays hadn't added up to a meal. Besides, Cas could use some meat on those bones. Hell, he could just use some meat. He was still healing up, after all.

"What do you think about stopping for a burger?" he finally asked. "I know a good place."

"I do enjoy a good burger," Cas agreed. "I suppose that would be all right, if you're certain Joanna won't mind. I should probably text her."

She wouldn't mind, but Dean left him to it. He'd been surprised Cas hadn't been texting her all through the time at the gallery, to be honest. Checking on kids often was pretty common new parent behavior. He remembered it well.

As they got closer to the Roadhouse, Dean took a deep lungful of air. He loved the smell of Ellen's cooking. Something about it wasn't the same, though. He could still smell the burgers and onions that always dominated the air, but there was also the faint scent of something sharp and metallic. Something that started sending off vague alarm bells. He couldn't place it, but with each step they took closer to the diner, every instinct in his body was to run. He gripped the leather keychain thing Cas had made for him. If it really had some kind of protective energy in it, he had a feeling they were going to need it.

"You know what? Maybe we should cut through this way," he said, tugging Cas toward the alley beside the diner. "Get you home faster."

"The cat alley?" Cas looked truly confused. "Why would we go that way?"

The door to the Roadhouse opened, and out stepped Dean's father. Right behind him was Alistair.

"I told you it was him," Alistair said. "Even with whatever foul chemicals he's using to try to hide, I could scent him from a mile away."

"Thought Sammy served those papers on you," Dean said. He let go of Cas's sleeve and the leather he'd been holding in his pocket and grabbed his phone instead. "Do I need to call the sheriff?"

He heard movement beside him but didn't turn to look. He hoped Cas was getting out of here, but that hope was quickly shattered. Alistair darted forward, but not toward Dean. Dean sidestepped in front of Cas, but he hadn't been fast enough. Not only did Alistair get past him, but somehow John ended up with Dean's phone.

"Looks like your little side piece had the same idea," Alistair said, stepping back and holding up the phone he'd grabbed from Cas's hand. "Didn't even have the manners to ask."

The screen was dark. No way to tell if Cas had managed to make the call. Dean hoped this looked sketchy enough to the people inside the Roadhouse, and that one of them would call. Odds were, though, nobody was looking out the window, and he didn't dare take his eyes off Alistair to check.

"Even if Cas and I were dating, he wouldn't be a damn 'side piece,'" Dean said. "We're divorced, Alistair, and I broke the bond. You have no claim on me."

"The courts of men have no say," Alistair said. "You are mine, Dean. You've had your fun pretending to be some beta 'nurse' or whatever. It is time to come home."

"I believe he told you that he does not wish to do so," Cas said, stepping out from behind Dean.

"This is nothing to do with you, Beta," John said.

They couldn't scent him? That was interesting, and Dean filed it away for later. Dean could, though, and the rich leathery scent now had overtones of smoke.

Everything seemed to slow down as Dean felt his canines and claws extend. The edges of everything around him sharpened. It was both exactly and nothing like one of his panic attacks. He had one focus: Alistair had Cas's phone. He had no right to it. Dean was going to get it back.

Alistair danced backward, holding the phone back and away, his teeth gleaming in the glare of the streetlights as he snarled. Dean wished he'd taken more than a single lesson at that dojo because not one bit of anything had stuck in his head. He fell back on what he knew, lunging and slashing at the thing that starred in his nightmares. The real thing, though, was ... just a were. An Alpha, sure, but still, just a were. 

Behind him, Dean heard trash cans clatter, and that same damn cat screeched.

A blow sent Dean reeling, and he caught a flash of Cas and John grappling. That was bad. Really bad. Why?

Cas snarled, and the smoke in his scent turned dark, like a steak left on a grill far too long.

Dean didn't even think. Cloth tore away as he fully transformed and lunged at John. Alistair would be on him in a second, but Dean needed Cas to get away. He had to get away. Dean's teeth sank into John's shoulder, and then Alistair's claws sunk into Dean's arm, yanking him back. When Dean whipped around to face his ex, he'd fully transformed. His shirt was in tatters, even worse than Dean's. He didn't look as big as the creature of Dean's nightmares, but he was still an Alpha, and still bigger than Dean. Some of the sharpness that had surrounded him faded. 

That wasn't good. Dean needed sharp. That was the only thing keeping him alive. The only way not to go back. And he wasn't going back.  
He hoped Cas had managed to get away.

Clang!

Alistair let go of Dean's arm and stumbled back. A trash can lid fell to the ground by his feet.

Yowl!

A furious ball of yellow fur flew past Dean and attached itself to Alistair's face.

A siren cut in and out as Dean fell to his knees. His wrist hurt, but he couldn't grab it to stem the pain.

Someone was saying his name. Several someones. Someones who weren't Alistair. Or John.

The scent of leather and smoke surrounded him as pressure clamped down on his aching wrist.

"Stay with me, Dean," Cas said.

What a silly thing to ask. Of course Dean would stay with him. In fact, Dean leaned into him, and let himself sink into a blessed nap.

#

The ride to the hospital had been a blur for Castiel. One minute he'd been desperately trying to hold Dean's arm together, willing the blood to stay inside of him, and the next, he'd been getting shooed into the ambulance by a sheriff who promised to talk to him later. Then, it had just been a flurry of movement and technical jargon that he barely understood. He wondered if this was what it had been like for Bartholomew when Castiel had started to bleed out after Claire's birth.

No. That would have required him to actually care about either of them as something other than accessories necessary to maintain his image. He'd proven that was not the case.

More than once, one of the paramedics turned to check on him, and he'd brushed them off. He was fine. All of his blood was right where it belonged.

There had been so much blood.

When they got to the hospital, the staff wasn't quite sure what to do with him, so they shuffled him into the waiting room. Several of the other occupants eyed him warily, and so he stepped outside. On the way, he caught his reflection in the automatic sliding glass door.

Right. Some of that blood had gotten on him.

He kept the trench coat on for now, as it was getting chilly, but he decided he'd remove it to go back inside. His dark suit underneath probably had blood on it, too, but it wouldn't show as much. The cold air snapped some of the blurred feeling from his mind, and he reached into his pocket for his phone to call Joanna.

Nothing. Right. That Alpha had stolen it. It was probably evidence now. He'd need to ask Eileen for help getting another one. Shit. Yes, he needed to call Joanna, but even more than that, he needed to contact Eileen. There was no point calling Joanna until he'd figured out how he could even get home. He shrugged out of the trench coat and marched back inside.

"I need to text my caseworker," he informed the triage nurse.

"There's a phone you can use over there to call her." The nurse pointed to a phone on the wall several feet away. A land line. She didn't even look up at him.

"She's Deaf," he said. "That phone won't work."

"Oh." The nurse looked up. "Um, there's a relay service we use, let me find the number."

It only took a moment for her to dig out the card that had all sorts of information about translators for what looked like every possible language. He supposed that would come in handy in a hospital.

"You can still call from that phone," she said. "Just bring back the card when you're done."

It was a bit awkward, since Castiel had never done this before. Fortunately, he'd been so new to the concept of cell phones, he'd memorized her number and used that to text her for the first couple of days before she'd showed him how to store her information in his contacts. Talking to the interpreter as if he was Eileen, well, that was hard to get used to, but he managed. And, as it turned out, it probably hadn't mattered.

"We're on our way to the hospital now. Jody called us as soon as she had those assholes arrested."

"She did?" Had Castiel asked her to? He really thought he would remember that.

"Sam is Dean's brother. We'll talk when I get there."

Huh. Well, Dean had mentioned that it was a small town. Castiel just hadn't realized it could be that small.

Joanna was another story. At least he was able to use the wall phone.

"He what? They what?" Joanna's voice was so loud, Castiel had to pull the phone away from his ear for a second.

Claire fussed in the background, and Joanna lowered her voice.

"And they've got you parked in the waiting room because you're not family. Pass this phone to the triage nurse."

"But ..."

"It'll reach. Just do it."

Fortunately, the triage nurse was not with another patient. And yes, the phone did reach, if barely. The triage nurse took it from him, looking confused. Then she looked startled and vaguely terrified. The next thing Castiel knew, he was being hustled back to a small room that held Dean on one side, and presumably someone else on the other side of the curtain.

Dean looked so pale.

Castiel supposed that had something to do with losing a lot of blood. Above the bed hung several bags of various liquids, one of which was clearly blood. Or had been. It looked empty now, and whatever was in the tube running along Dean's uninjured arm to his hand was clear. There was some kind of monitor over the other side of the bed, with various squiggly lines and numbers. It wasn't making any loud beeping noises, as usually happened when things went wrong in that television show Dean liked so much, so he decided to interpret that as reassuring.

Castiel tried to sit still in the chair next to Dean's stretcher, but he found that he was full of nervous energy. Left over from the fight, perhaps? He'd thought he'd just collapse from exhaustion. Maybe that came later. Where were Eileen and Sam?

Dean stirred, and Castiel cut this round of pacing short to get closer to him. His eyelashes fluttered a little against his freckled cheeks before his eyes opened. At first, Dean looked confused, eyebrows drawing together and crinkling the skin between them. Then his eyes widened in terror.  
Now the monitor started beeping.

"Dean," Castiel said, "it's okay. You're safe."

"But Alistair ..."

"Is arrested," Castiel managed to say before the nurse ran in.

She started asking Dean questions and telling him to calm down. It wasn't working. Dean just kept talking about the Alphas who'd attacked them, eyes darting around the room. His usual apple cinnamon scent ran sour with fear.

"I'll get something to calm him," the nurse said. She tapped the thing hanging around her neck and rattled a bunch of numbers off, then asked for something that just sounded like a bunch of letters. A voice replied, and she left the room quickly.

"Cas, we've got to get out of here before ..."

Castiel grabbed Dean's hand.

"Tell me five things you can see, Dean," he said.

"What? That's not important!"

"Yes it is," Castiel replied. "Assess the situation. Tell me five things you can see."

"Ugh, fine! I see an IV line running to my left hand, my right arm is bandaged up all to hell and back, your shirt has blood on it, the walls are beige and the door is open. It's open, Cas, they can come right in!"

"We'll take care of that in a minute." Cas wasn't sure what kind of alarms it would set off if he messed with the door. Maybe none, maybe lots. Besides, he didn't want to let go of Dean's hand. "Now four things you can hear."

"I hear this stupid monitor beeping because apparently I'm in sinus tach, this annoying IV pump's motor every other second, people walking in the hall, and, well, you." His voice was less sharp now.

"Three things you can touch."

"Well, you're holding my hand, so that's one. Scratchy hospital sheet for two. Cool metal side rail for three." Now Dean was starting to sound more like his regular self and less like he was getting ready to run.

The nurse came back in, syringe in hand. She stopped and looked up at the monitor, then pressed a button, stopping the alarm.

"Huh," she said. "I mean, you're still tachy, Dean, but it looks like you're settling down."

"What'cha got there?" Dean asked. "Ativan, I'm guessing."

"You got it," she said.

"I think I'm good," Dean said. His eyes cut over to Castiel.

"All right," she said. She glanced over at their joined hands and gave a little smile. "Anyway, now that you're conscious, if you do need it, you can get it P.O."

"Awesome. I've had enough holes poked in me today."

After the nurse left, Castiel asked, "What's P.O.?"

"Some Latin shit that means 'by mouth.'"

"Oh."

They were silent for a bit.

"Why didn't you run?" Dean asked.

"What, and leave you to the two of them?" Castiel wasn't sure how insulted he should be by that.

"I was thinking run into the Roadhouse and get some help."

"Oh." Castiel breathed a sigh of relief. "I started to, but then I saw there were people at the window with their phones, so I just hoped somebody was calling."

"And played Captain America with a trash can lid ... and a cat?"

"I didn't _throw_ the cat," Castiel said. "I think it was just really possessive of that trash can. And the lid."

Dean snickered, then looked down at his bandaged arm. "It was almost worth it just to see that thing clawing up Alistair's face."

"No." Castiel squeezed his hand and waited until Dean looked back toward him. "You getting hurt was not worth it."

Dean's cheeks colored, but he didn't look away.

Castiel wasn't sure when he'd stood up or even decided to, but suddenly he was leaning over Dean, who was still holding his gaze. And then they were kissing. At some point Castiel must have let go of Dean's hand because it was caressing Castiel's cheek. The spicy-sweet aroma of apple pie filled Castiel's nose, and he was pretty sure his lips had just found their permanent home.

"All right, Dean, your heart rate's back up, so ... oh." 

Her footsteps retreated, but the moment was already broken.

Castiel's head was spinning. What had just happened?

"I was hoping tonight might end like this," Dean said.

"With you in the hospital?" Castiel squinted at Dean, looking to see if there was some head injury no one had noticed. That would explain Dean's behavior, at least. There was no sign of blood or bruising that he could see, though, and anyway, that wouldn't have explained Castiel's behavior.

"Kissing you," Dean said. "I mean, I know we didn't say it was an actual date, but I was kind of hoping it might turn into one."

Castiel was saved from figuring out how to respond to that by Eileen and Sam being escorted into the room, where Sam immediately went to Dean's side and started asking questions, and Eileen, after a couple of quick signs to Dean, sidestepped to Castiel, presumably so she could keep all three of them in view.

"He says he's okay," she said, "but he'd say that if he was on his way to emergency surgery."

"I think they've been taking good care of him," Castiel said. Not that he'd know the difference, he supposed, but the staff here were also Dean's coworkers. He had to trust that they would look out for him. For any patient, sure, but right now, especially Dean.

"What about you?" Eileen asked.

"I wasn't hurt," Castiel said.

"You didn't pull any stitches or anything?"

"Those dissolved weeks ago," Castiel said.

"Right. I knew that. What was I thinking?"

"You were concerned for me," Castiel said. He thought he got the sign for "worry" right. "You're a very kind person."

"Thank you," she replied.

"So, when're we going home?" Dean asked.

Sam rolled his eyes.

"When they say you're ready and not a minute earlier," Eileen replied. She added a couple of signs Castiel wasn't familiar with, but from Dean's reaction, he assumed they were unflattering.

The other question was what was Castiel supposed to do now? He couldn't walk home from here. He could hardly stay here indefinitely, leaving Claire with Jo, and he definitely didn't have the money for a med-cab. Could you even get a med-cab at night? Both fortunately and unfortunately, the person who typically helped him with situations such as finding a way to leave the hospital with no transportation of his own (though fortunately, this time not also a new place to live), was Eileen. Her focus should be on Dean and Sam, though. Not him.

"Hey, Cas," Dean said. "Don't sweat keeping Jo waiting. Just shoot her a text. Wait, did you get your phone back?"

Castiel just shook his head.

"Oh, that's why you used the service?" Eileen asked. "I was wondering."

"I'm not sure if it's broken on the ground back there or maybe the sheriff thinks it belongs to one of them," Castiel admitted.

"We can figure that out tomorrow," Eileen said.

"I'll shoot her a text," Sam said, pulling a phone out of his back pocket. "Then once we find out how much longer Dean's going to be here, we'll either leave together or one of us can give you a ride home."


	11. Chapter 11

"I can't believe you dragged a cat into it!" Gabe said, slapping Cas on the shoulder. "That's priceless, man!"

"I did not _drag_ the cat," Cas mumbled. He shuffled in the direction of the coffee shop, not stopping to see if the rest of them were following.

"I still can't get over the fact that happened at all," Sarah said. "I know the area's still getting done up, but we don't usually get that kind of trouble."

"It's not like it was random," Dean said. "And Sam says they're going away for a long while, so you don't need to worry about those two."

"I guess."

Dean hoped this wouldn't impact Cas's job. It's not like he'd been Alistair and John's target, after all. He'd just been foolish enough to be out with Dean. Alistair might be vindictive enough to go after Cas out of jealousy, but he'd have a hard time doing it from prison.

"You two coming?" Dean asked.

Cas had already gone into the coffee shop. Dean didn't want to leave him sitting there alone.

"I've got to get to the gallery," Sarah said. "Tell Castiel I'll see him later."

"I gotta get to work too," Gabe said. "'Sides, you two seem like you've got stuff to talk about."

That son of a bitch was way too perceptive.

When Dean got inside the shop, Cas was at what had become "their" table with two cups of coffee and two slices of apple pie. He looked up at the sound of the bell over the door, and smiled at Dean when their eyes met. Dean grinned and sat down to join him.

"Apple today, huh?" Dean asked, grabbing a fork and stabbing the point off the slice. "Awesome."

"I'm growing fond of it," Cas said. Then he looked down at the pie and took a swig of his coffee.

Crap. They hadn't done more than exchange a couple of texts since Friday, and now Dean could see why. He took a bite of the pie, and it tasted like cardboard.

"Hey, man, I get it," Dean said, forcing the same smile onto his face that he used when dealing with difficult patients. Good thing he had the practice; otherwise, he didn't think he'd be able to pull it off. "Even with them in jail or prison or whatever, I get that you can't risk being with me. Claire needs her dad in one piece."

Cas's head snapped up and his eyes narrowed as if Dean were suddenly speaking that angel language of his. E-something. Dean reflexively reached into his pocket and rubbed the key fob between his thumb and forefinger. He really hoped Cas didn't ask for it back.

"Dean," Cas said slowly, "what are you talking about?"

Dean waved a hand at the pie. "Buttering me up to let me down easy. Like I said, I get it."

Cas tilted his head to the side.

"What? Cas, you're freaking me out, man."

"I am not attempting to butter you up," he said, "I am trying to apologize."

"You ... huh?" Dean asked intelligently.

"I shouldn't have kissed you," Cas said. "You were injured, medicated, and ..."

Dean let the silence go for a moment before asking, "And what?"

"And I'm an Omega."

"So?" Dean asked. "I mean, if you don't care that I am, I don't see why I should care that you are. In case you hadn't noticed, I haven't had the best luck with Alphas. Or Betas, for that matter."

"So you meant what you said?" Cas asked. "That wasn't just the drugs talking?"

Dean felt his shoulders melt down away from his ears. He hadn't even realized he was getting that tense.

"Not just the drugs. I was really hoping it might turn into a date." Dean took a deep breath, and between the scent of the pie, the coffee, and the rich, buttery leather scent from Cas, he felt his appetite coming back. He took another bite of the pie, and this time, it was perfect.

"Then, can we try going on another?" Cas asked. "Only, maybe, this time without the ambulance ride?"

"No promises," Dean said, "but I'll see what I can do."


End file.
